


Kaleidoscope

by cleflink



Series: Learn to Glow [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Meet the Family, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleflink/pseuds/cleflink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't a story about why Jensen, one of the most powerful empaths in the world, fell in love with a Normal person like Jared. Instead, it's a story about his life before Jared arrived, and after. </p><p>So perhaps it really is a story about why he fell in love, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaleidoscope

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [spn_j2_bigbang's](http://spn_j2_bigbang.livejournal.com) 2016 round. Sequel to [Learn to Glow for Other's Good](http://cleflink.livejournal.com/46350.html) and [Hearts Have Colours](http://cleflink.livejournal.com/56227.html) which I highly recommend reading first.
> 
> Warnings for explicit sex and children being raised in a safe but loveless environment.
> 
>  
> 
> **Please do not post links to my stories on Goodreads or any other third party website.**

When Jared walked into a room, it felt like sunshine.

Not literally, of course. Jensen knew the difference between the gentle heat of sun on his skin and the honey-warm glow of Jared's emotions in the back of his mind; he was an empath, not an idiot.

And Jared didn't actually need to be in the room in order for Jensen to sense his emotions, either. Being a bonded level 5 empath meant that he could feel Jared when he was on the other side of the city. Possibly further, although they hadn't tested that yet. 

To be honest, Jensen didn't really see the point in speaking metaphorically. It clearly wasn't a sufficient way to explain anything.

Except Jared had told him that people used metaphorical language to describe things that were completely foreign to their listener. And it was certainly true that Jensen had never been able to explain to anyone's satisfaction what the world looked like to him. So he was willing to give this simile stuff a try.

He didn't think he was very good at it just yet.

Fire-orange affection slipped down his spine, and Jensen looked up to see Jared leaning in the doorway of his office, his arms crossed across his chest and a smile curving his lips.

"Well hey there," Jared said, when he saw that he had Jensen's attention. The feeling of his affection intensified. "What's got you looking so cheerful this fine afternoon?"

Just about anyone on the planet would have had Jared committed for that remark, since Jensen knew for a fact that he looked the same as he always did: neutral. He wasn't capable of looking anything else.

It was typical for an empath, of course. Unless Jensen wanted to go insane from having the rest of the world's feelings in his head every moment of his life, he needed mental walls strong enough to keep them all out. And anything that kept some things out also kept other things in.

Jensen had emotions, obviously. Plenty of them. Sometimes they bubbled up so fierce and fast that he thought they'd burst right out of him and reveal to the world that he wasn't the soulless automaton that he appeared to be. But his will was made of stronger stuff and so the only person who had ever got to experience his feelings was him.

And now Jared, but even that wasn't quite even. Thanks to their bond, Jared's feelings were in Jensen's head constantly; they'd made their own space inside him, persistent and inescapable, and would only be moved when one of them died. 

By contrast, Jared was a passive participant in their bond. He was Normal, not a stella, which meant that he could feel nothing of Jensen unless Jensen either shared something deliberately - which he usually forgot to do - or forgot himself enough to let something slip. Which had thus far only happened when Jensen was in the hospital after a near-death experience. So, not likely.

According to their physician, it was possible that prolonged exposure to their bond would allow Jared to become more attuned to Jensen's emotions without Jensen's input, but there were so few recorded instances of high level empaths making soul bonds that they couldn't be sure. Also not likely to be the case here.

So this was just Jared being fanciful. Nothing new there.

"You're insane," Jensen told him, because that was obviously the appropriate response.

"And you love it," Jared returned, without missing a beat. Something that Jensen had learned of Jared was that he was apparently never at a loss for words. "You ready to go or are you in the middle of something?"

Jensen had, in fact, been dithering about playing Solitaire for the last ten minutes, waiting for Jared. He wasn't quite sure when he'd started looking for good stopping points in his workload rather than carrying on until the clock ticked to five and then wrapping up after hours, but he suspected that it coincided closely with Jared's new habit of coming to fetch him at the end of the day. Jared would wait without complaining, Jensen knew, but Jensen found himself in the somewhat novel position of wanting to make Jared happy. If not starting a new project at 4:40 pm made it easier for them to go home together then, well. It was a small sacrifice, really.

Not that he intended to let Jared know that. "Give me a minute," he said, and then proceeded to look busy as he shuffled papers away and closed down his computer.

"So," Jared said, as Jensen locked his office door and they headed together towards the lobby. "Any thoughts on dinner?"

Jensen shrugged. It was a new addition to his emotive repertoire, shrugging, and he enjoyed getting the practice in. "I'm generally a fan. Why do you ask?"

Jared blinked, then chuckled. Jensen could feel his amusement, which meant that it was a good chuckle. "Smart ass. I meant, what you like to eat for dinner? You want me to cook?"

Unlike Jensen, who quite enjoyed cooking, Jared had a cheffing repertoire that consisted of about five meals. In some ways, Jensen was pleased about that because it meant that he had something to contribute to their relationship. All the books he'd read about how to have a healthy relationship indicated that sharing tasks was important. 

"We can have fajitas," Jensen decided, as they reached the lobby. "You chop and I'll cook."

"I love a good compromise," Jared said. He lifted one hand in a wave. "Night, Richard." 

Jensen was confused until the security guard at the desk answered with, "See you later, Jared. You too, Jensen."

"Goodbye," Jensen said automatically, not remembering that he ought to make eye contact until it was too late. The security guard looked like he was used to Jensen ignoring him, which he probably was. The familiar curl of guilt wound its way into his chest.

The sun was unhelpfully bright as they stepped outside. Jared paused to fish through the half dozen pockets on his shoulder bag to find his sunglasses. Jensen waited, his previously good mood soured.

"Is there something bothering you?" Jared asked, without looking up from his search. "You were fine just a minute ago."

Jensen didn't bother asking how Jared knew that something had changed. He'd found Jared baffling for pretty much all of their acquaintance thus far; having the man's feelings in his head hadn't helped as much as he would have hoped. 

"The security guard," Jensen said. "Is he the same one as yesterday?"

Jared nodded. "Richard's been working here for, hmm, about three months? Does all the afternoon shifts during the week."

"Oh." Jensen hadn't realized. 

Concern. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Jensen said. He paused, then added, "I didn't recognize him."

"Hey." Jared put a hand to Jensen's shoulder, the thick weave of Jensen's shirt blocking the worst of the emotional transference from the touch. Not that it made much difference when he could feel Jared's blue-tinged fondness through their bond, but it was easier to compartmentalize it when it wasn't compounded by skin contact. "It's not something to blame yourself for. Hell, I'd wager that a good third of our coworkers don't know his name either, and they haven't got nearly as good an excuse for it as you do."

Namely, that Jensen had trouble recognizing other people as unique individuals. One of the side effects of completely walling off his sense of empathy.

More liquid blue concern. "Can I ask why you're upset?" Jared asked. "You don't usually react like this to a little social faux pas."

Not entirely true - granted, it depended on whether or not Jensen noticed in the first place, but, when he did, he usually regretted his complete inability to make it seem like he cared about the people he met in Normal society. If Jared hadn't realized that, though, Jensen wasn't about to tell him. The foolish man already cared for Jensen more than was sensible. No need to make it worse. 

"Spending time with you makes people pay attention to me more," Jensen said, which had the benefit of being the truth. "That guard-"

"Richard," Jared supplied.

"Richard knows my name, even though I've never spoken to him. It makes me want to be… better at returning the favour."

A burst of affection. "I want you to know that I'm manfully refraining from hugging you until you squeak," Jared said. "You should admire my self-control."

"It's very admirable," Jensen said, because he was used to Jared's reactions to things making no sense.

"Isn't it just?" Jared grinned. "Consider this your positive social interaction for the day."

"Whatever did I do without you?" Jensen asked rhetorically.

"I honestly have no idea," Jared said, his sincerity tinged with just a touch of melancholy and something that Jensen hoped wasn't pity. "So, you ready to go home?"

Jensen had absolutely no desire to address the emotions he was feeling in Jared's head right now, so he answered the question. "Still waiting on you to find your movie star sunglasses, princess."

"Lucky for you, I'm always worth the wait." Jared was grinning as he slipped on his unnecessarily large aviators.

"Idiot," Jensen said, rather than agreeing, and fell in step with Jared as they headed towards the parking lot. Towards home.

Jensen was 13 the first time he truly understood that people were afraid of him.

"I think that's enough," Dr. Tapping told him, and Jensen nodded, letting his hand drop away from the wrist of the helper strapped into the chair next to him. She was exhibiting no notable signs of emotional distress, which was unfortunate but not unsurprising.

Dr. Tapping picked up her clipboard. "Tamara?" Jensen had done this enough times to understand that Dr. Tapping was asking a question, even though a person's name didn't count as a question.

"Limited effect," the helper said. "A mild feeling of melancholy."

Which, considering that Jensen had been trying to make her feel tearing, wrenching, unfathomable grief, was not a positive outcome.

"Understood." Dr. Tapping wrote something down, then turned her attention to Jensen. "Are all of the emotions you're feeling right now self-created, Jensen?"

This was so embarrassing. "No," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm experiencing a feeling of delight that isn't mine."

"I see." More writing, and Jensen wished that there was enough give in the straps to let him sink further down into his chair. Why was he so bad at this?

Dr. Tapping looked at the clock. "That's the end of today's session. Jensen, you can raise your shields again."

Two more helpers immediately stepped forward to release them, but Jensen stayed sitting for a moment, trying to work past the residual emotions the physical contact had left. 

"We'll keep working on it tomorrow," Dr. Tapping said. Jensen wondered if she felt as frustrated as he did.

Dr. Tapping caught him looking at her and smiled. "Don't worry, Jensen," she said. "You'll get there. It's just going to take more practice."

 _How much more?_ Jensen didn't ask. "Yes, Dr. Tapping."

"You've got a few minutes before you're expected at your next station. Go take a walk to calm down."

Jensen didn't bother protesting that he didn't need to calm down. Dr. Tapping had always been the best at reading him.

The hallways at Home were always busy, and Jensen slid into the general traffic, being careful to keep his bare hands carefully tucked away. Everyone gave him a wide berth, which Jensen was used to. He was the only level 5 stella currently in residence at Home, and it made him unavoidably memorable. 

It didn't bother him, not really. Jensen was old enough now to know that personal relationships were all but impossible for an empath as powerful as he was. No one wanted to be friends with an automaton like him.

Well, except for Chris. But he was almost certainly insane, so he didn't count.

His own frustration and embarrassment at being no closer to being able to impress memories now than he had been when he'd started learning five months and three days ago accompanied Jensen as he walked alone down the crowded hall. 

According to Dr. Tapping, he was having trouble with impressing emotions entirely because he was a level 5. In order to influence someone else's emotions, Jensen had to weaken his mental shields. Unfortunately, his empathy was so strong that his target's emotions kept overwhelming him before he got the chance to impress anything.

Dr. Tapping was confident that Jensen would figure it out eventually. Jensen wasn't so sure.

A pair of gliders zoomed down the hallway, their erratic movements and inability to stay off the ground for more than 15 seconds at a time making it clear that they were either new arrivals at Home, or else very low level stellae. Helpers and stellae alike swerved to avoid them, but it was already too late.

"Whoa!" one of the gliders yelled as his momentum proved too much for his balance to keep up with, and he went ass over tits (as Chris would say) directly into the half dozen people who didn't get out of the way in time. 

Jensen included.

His breath escaped in a rush as he tumbled to the floor, and it was instinct to put his hands out to break his fall.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the ground that he landed on.

"Oof!" a girl's voice said, right in his ear, as Jensen crashed down on top of her. Someone else's weight landed on him, trapping him between two immobile bodies. 

"Ow," Jensen managed. He lifted his head to get a better look at the situation, only to get arrested by the way the girl's eyes widened when she saw his face. 

"Oh god," she said, struggling against the combined weight of Jensen and everyone on top of him. "Not you!"

Jensen wondered if he was supposed to apologize for being himself.

Instead, he tried again to push himself upright, only to have his palm brush against her bare arm. Her emotions rushed in.

Panic. Fear. Desperation.

"Don't touch me!"

Jensen was flying the next minute, pushed by all the force that a panicked telekinetic could muster. His back hit the far wall hard enough to make sparks flash in front of his eyes, and he groaned as the pain fed into the fear coursing through his veins.

Get away, he had to get away, oh, he was so _afraid_.

He was only absently aware of the fact that he'd curled into a ball, his back against the wall and his knees tucked in close to his chest. All he could feel was terror, rooting him to the floor and making his breath come in short gasps. His heart was pounding, his hands felt clammy. Was this what dying felt like?

"Jensen!" 

Hands dropped on him, sudden and shocking, and Jensen screamed.

"Get away!" he yelled, bucking frantically against those clutching fingers. But the hands - so many hands - didn't let go. Dimly, he could feel those hands trying to calm him down, but he was too scared to be soothed so easily. He kept right on screaming and thrashing until the hands forced his head to one side, and a needle slid into his skin, bringing oblivion with it.

\------

Jensen learned later that his shields had dropped in his fear and he'd caused three gliders, seven telekinetics and a half dozen helpers to have panic attacks of their own. For his part, Jensen hadn't known that anybody could be that scared of anything.

He especially hadn't known that _he_ was something that people should be scared of.

No wonder he had no friends.

Non-empaths, Jensen had gathered, had no idea just how often they conveyed their emotions through tone of voice and non-verbal communication. The entire world was full of cues and hints that everyone else took for granted, but Jensen was unable to see.

He couldn't hear the warmth in someone's voice, he couldn't feel the tension in a room. He knew what basic facial expressions meant - smiles, frowns, tears, and the like - but only through practice and exposure. He couldn't distinguish a genuine smile from a polite grimace, couldn't tell when laughter was kind and when it was derisive, couldn't differentiate between anger and embarrassment when a person blushed. Unless people told him what they were feeling, Jensen had almost no way of knowing. Which was fine, honestly. It wasn't like Jensen had ever known anything different.

Until Jared came along.

Exactly 212 days ago, Jensen had created a permanent empathic link between himself and his coworker, Jared, during a semi-delirious moment of sheer desperation brought on by the emotional backlash from a nearby car accident. The link made him constantly awareness of Jared's emotional state, and - more usefully - afforded him better control of his empathy than he'd ever have been able to manage alone. Of course, it wouldn't have been possible had he not spent much of the three months beforehand falling quietly in love with the man, which explained why so few high level empaths like Jensen ever managed to create empathic links: cutting off all emotional connections with the world wasn't exactly a good way to foster romantic relationships.

Things had progressed in several unexpected ways since then. He and Jared had started spending time together outside of work, Jensen had nearly died, Jared had learned about the bond and, shockingly, indicated that he was interested in being in a committed relationship with Jensen, and they'd moved in together.

According to Jensen's _Relationships for Dummies_ book, this was a classic example of a relationship moving 'too fast'. Jensen could only disagree. Jared was it for him, literally. What point would there be to maintain separate housing when he was already in Jared's head 24/7? He hadn't thought that living together could possibly be more intimate than that.

Now, one month and two days since Jared had moved into his house, Jensen still didn't think he'd been wrong, although he could privately admit that he perhaps hadn't realized just how much of an adjustment process it would be.

Jensen wasn't used to sharing his space. He'd lived in fairly close quarters at Home, of course, but he'd still had a private set of rooms, just like all the other stellae. It was safer that way: less chance of them hurting each other in their sleep.

Since leaving Home, Jensen had lived alone. Stellae were afforded special consideration when it came to student housing, so he'd been allocated an isolated basement apartment during college. After that, a combination of government funding and a good entry-level job had allowed Jensen to afford a house of his own not long after finishing school. Voluntarily living with Jared was a novel concept on multiple levels.

Luckily, Jared presumably wasn't that hard to live with. Not having anything to compare him to, Jensen couldn't be entirely certain, but he never had to contend with loud parties, gross lack of hygiene or property theft. 

The greatest challenge - aside from sharing a bed, which was its own kind of minefield - was getting used to never being alone. Granted, Jensen had never truly been alone since the moment he'd created the bond; Jared was always right there, whether he was physically present or not. It was… nice.

Even so, Jensen sometimes found the reality of constantly sharing his living space a little overwhelming. His house was a good size for two people, but they couldn't always avoid each other. And nor did they want to, really. But sometimes, Jensen missed the opportunity to be left to his own devices. 

Cohabitating also interfered with his usual routines.

Ever since he'd 'joined the real world', as Chris put it, Jensen had made a successful trip to the grocery store one of his weekly goals. To pass, he had to be inside the building for a minimum of 40 minutes and couldn't use the self-checkout. 

Grocery stores were inevitably full of loud families and louder feelings that jumbled into a vague gray miasma of boredom and irritation that lingered over everything. Jensen had to keep his mental walls iron-strong if he wanted to leave in anything other than a foul mood, but he felt that it was important for him to at least try to be part of society. And the grocery store didn't require him to interact with anyone other than the cashier, which made it easier to pass for Normal there than most other places he might go instead. 

For most of the first year, Jensen was lucky to manage a fifteen minute sprint to get the basic necessities, after which he'd spend most of the rest of the day shaky and miserable. Even several years beyond that point, he'd still rarely managed to get a string of more than six successes in a row.

It was for this reason that Jensen had made it a habit early on to stock plenty of non-perishable goods in his house, just in case he didn't manage to buy anything that week. The television programs that Jared liked to watch made it clear that this would also make Jensen fairly well off in the event of a zombie uprising or nuclear winter, which was useful. 

Since Jared had moved in, Jensen's shopping goal had become at once easier and harder to meet.

Easier because Jensen's control had never been better. The miasma of the grocery store was nothing with the colourful glow of Jared's feelings to keep it at bay.

Harder because, now that they lived together, Jared tended to offer to come with him, or do the shopping himself. Both options undoubtedly made grocery shopping much easier, but they rather invalidated Jensen's efforts to reach his goal. When Jared was around, it hardly counted as a moment of Jensen facing the big, overwhelming world on his own.

Jensen hadn’t told Jared about his weekly goals. He wasn't quite sure how to go about that.

In the meantime, he mostly tried to find excuses to go on his own. 

Today, he had successfully found an opportunity to go shopping while Jared was playing some online video game that Jensen could never remember the name of. Sunday mornings were generally one of the quieter times to brave the grocery store which, coupled with Jensen's newfound Jared-centric equilibrium, meant that it was no problem to meet his goal and get the grocery shopping done well before noon.

While Jensen was on his way home, Jared's emotions went from their standard, neutral good cheer to something openly affectionate, tinged with the faintest edge of amused fondness. It was a combination that Jensen most commonly associated with Jared's reaction to _him_ , which made it quite odd to be experiencing it now, when they weren't even in the same building. 

The feeling persisted for the entire trip home, and all the way through Jensen unlocking the door to let himself into the house. 

"I'm back," he called. It was redundant but, apparently, polite. And it made Jared happy.

Jensen had discovered that he was willing to do a lot of pointless things to make Jared happy.

Jared's head and torso appeared around the kitchen doorway, the phone pressed against his ear. He grinned and waved at Jensen. "Welcome home," he said. And then, "Sorry, Jensen just got back from grocery shopping."

Jensen almost asked him why he was narrating what he was doing, but then Jared turned away from the doorway, still talking, and he realized that he'd missed the obvious.

Telephone. Obviously there was someone on the other end.

Presumably, the person he was talking to was responsible for how Jared was feeling.

Jensen felt a twinge of discontent at the thought. It was a selfish, but not unreasonable response. Nearly everyone in the world would have been easier to love than he was; he wouldn't have blamed Jared if he'd finally figured that out.

He had guiltily been hoping it might have taken longer than this, though.

"Yeah," Jared was saying, as Jensen lugged all the grocery bags into the kitchen. "Meggie mentioned it the last time I spoke to her. She sounded pretty excited."

Since Jared was presumably still talking to the person on the phone - he wasn't making much sense and he wasn't looking at Jensen - Jensen busied himself with putting things away. Every now and then, Jared's long limbs appeared to take something and slot it away on a shelf.

"I don't know what our plans are yet," Jared said. "Yes, I kn- of course I do, but it's not completely my decision. No, not yet. I will! I'm waiting for the right time t-"

Jared cut himself off, his eyes darting towards Jensen. 

"What?" Jensen asked.

Jared shook his head; Jensen would have liked to know if it was at him or the person on the phone. Logic dictated that it should have been directed at Jensen, since he was the one who could actually see Jared, but logic and Jared didn't always go hand in hand, as Jensen was learning.

Jared barked out a sudden laugh, amused shock painting their bond a vibrant purple. "No, I really don't think that would help. Especially not then. I'll let you know as soon as I do. Yes. Yes. M'hmm. Okay. Love you too. Bye."

"Who was that?" Jensen asked as he hung up, not even bothering to pretend he wasn't curious.

Jared put the phone back in the cradle and reached to grab some more groceries. "My mama. She says hi, by the way, although you probably guessed that."

Jensen hadn't. 

"Your mother knows about me?" he asked, surprised. 

Jared grinned. "Of course. Why wouldn't she?"

"Why would she?" Jensen countered.

"You're the guy I'm spending the rest of my life with," Jared said, shrugging. "My parents have known about you since before I moved in."

"Oh," said Jensen, taken aback.

"They want to meet you," Jared continued, as though his easy assertion that he was as committed to Jensen as Jensen was to him wasn't utterly breathtaking. "That's what all the nagging at the end of the conversation was about. They want to know what we're doing for Christmas."

Jensen wasn't following this conversation well. "Christmas?"

"I told them I'd have to talk to you first, of course. Because a Padalecki Christmas is a bit of a gong show at the best of times, so I'm not sure it's the best introduction to the family. Besides," Jared's cheeks pinked in either embarrassment, arousal or anger, "I think it might be nice to spend our first Christmas together as just the two of us, y'know?"

Ah. Probably embarrassment then. Not really Jensen's main concern at the moment.

"Why do your parents want to meet me?" he asked.

The question caught Jared off guard, judging by the surprised confusion Jensen was feeling through the bond. "Um, see previous answer? Why wouldn't they?" 

_Because I'm me_ was probably not the answer Jared was looking for. "I can't imagine that most parents would be all that pleased to have their offspring in a relationship with an empath."

"You kidding? They're delighted. My mama would have descended with a metric ton of baking and overly enthusiastic hugs the moment she found out if I'd let her." Jared made the face that he'd defined for Jensen as a 'pout', although his emotions were tending more towards pleased than upset. "I'm pretty sure she already loves you more than me."

The rapid swing of Jared's emotions in this conversation was making him dizzy. He tried to hook onto one thought and follow it through to a logical conclusion.

"They're delighted because I'm a stella?"

Fond exasperation. "No, because you're Jensen. And because I love you." Jared peered at him, his brow creasing. "Are you okay?"

Jensen thought about it. It was unexpectedly difficult. "Nominally. I should probably sit down."

Jared's hand was immediately on his arm, then recoiled. "Shit, sorry, I forgot. Is it okay if I touch you?"

Jensen nodded. "No skin contact, please. Not right now."

"Gotcha." 

Jared's hand resettled again and he half-led, half-pulled Jensen out of the kitchen into the den. He sat Jensen down on the couch, then sat next to him.

"Better?" Jared's thumb was rubbing circles on Jensen's arm over his sleeve. It was unexpectedly soothing.

"Yes. Sorry," he added belatedly. He wasn't entirely sure it was the appropriate response, but it was probably close enough. 

"Nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry that I sprung the idea of my family on you like that. I guess I wasn't thinking about how that might be different from what you're used to."

"What have you told them about me?" Jensen asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer. For them to want to meet him - to be looking forward to meeting him - there must have been a great deal of information omitted.

Jared shrugged. "The usual, I guess? Whatever came to mind, really." He grinned. "My mama may have accused me of writing odes to your eyes once or twice."

His eyes? That was odd. Wasn't it? He was going to have to do more research.

"Do they know I'm a level 5 empath?" Jensen asked.

"Of course they do. And I've already told them a bunch of the rules about how not to act. They're all much less boorish than I am," Jared added, still grinning. "So I doubt any of them will make a worst first impression than I did."

Jensen still hadn't managed to tell Jared that he didn't actually remember the day they met. It was normal for him, but he suspected that Jared would find it upsetting.

"They're not going to-" Jensen cursed the limitations of language. He didn't know how to explain this. "I doubt most parents want someone as… limited as I am to be in a romantic relationship with their child."

"Jensen," Jared said, wearing the expression that Chris had identified for him as 'patient'. Jared used it a lot. "All my parents care about is the fact that you make me happy. And that you're not a serial killer, probably."

"I'm probably not a serial killer?"

Jared made a face. "Not actually what I meant. But if the shoe fits…"

"Even if I was, you'd never know," Jensen said, in an attempt to 'lighten the mood'. "I hear I have an amazing poker face."

Jared, once again, proved himself all too happy to give Jensen the out he was looking for.

"Only until I find your creepy trophy room in the cellar. That would give you away." Jared waved a hand. "Then I'd probably die in some ironic and gruesome way, leaving you free to continue your killing spree."

"I think that I'm concerned that you have this all thought out."

"It's classic horror story structure! Don't tell me you haven't seen a half dozen horror flicks exactly like that."

"Horror films don't really do much for me," Jensen admitted. "I'm not good at sympathetic responses."

Chagrin with a smattering of guilt. "You just don't want to admit that horror movies make you hide behind the couch," Jared said, grinning.

Ever since bonding with Jared, Jensen had been amazed to learn just how often Jared's feelings and words didn't line up. He'd asked if that was something unique to Jared, but Jared had said that it was normal for people to feel one thing and say another. It didn't make sense to Jensen but, then, very few things in the Normal world did.

So he simply said, "That's it exactly, Jared. However did you figure it out?"

Jared tapped a finger alongside his nose. "Trade secret." He gave Jensen a look. "You feeling better?"

He was, actually. "Yes. But I don't want to go to your parents' house for Christmas."

"I didn't figure you would. I'll tell them."

"You can go without me," Jensen offered. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready to deal with Christmas at all, even just with Jared. Maybe he could ease into it slowly.

Of course, he should have realized that Jared would have none of an idea like that. "No way. I'd have to spend the entire time convincing people that you weren't a figment of my imagination. Totally not worth it, even for my mama's roast potatoes. We can do Christmas here."

There wasn't a lot Jensen could say to that. "Okay."

"They really would like to meet you sometime, though," Jared said, his voice shifting in pitch. Jensen had no idea what the change was meant to convey. 

He knew the logical response, though. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"They already like you," Jared reminded him. He held up a hand to forestall Jensen's immediate response. "And no, meeting you will not change their minds." Hopefulness. "Just think about it, okay? It'd be something low-key and small. Just you, me and my parents."

There wasn't a lot that Jensen could say to that either. "I'll think about it."

Jared's grin flashed. "You're the best. Now," he levered himself to his feet. "Why don't you sit here while I finish restocking your bomb shelter pantry? I really don't think we needed more pasta, you know."

"I can help." Jensen started to rise, only to find his way blocked by Jared's hand on his shoulder and Jared's worry in his brain.

"You bought it, I can put it away. Just relax for once. I know you've probably forgotten how but I'm sure you can figure it out. I have faith."

"You're a dick," Jensen told him, purely for the purpose of making Jared grin. Jared swayed as though he was going to steal a kiss, before visibly thinking better of it and straightening again. 

Jensen felt a pang of guilt. 

Jared looked at him. "Everything okay?"

Hmm. Must have been broadcasting a little bit there. "Fine," Jensen said. "Go and be useful. Those groceries won't put away themselves."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Jared said, before heading into the kitchen. The sound of him digging through the bags drifted through the air along with the quiet hum of his resting emotions. 

Jensen slumped back into the cushions with a head full of self-recrimination. 

How could he have forgotten about _parents_?

Today was the day. 

Jensen thought he might burst with all of the excitement inside him. Finally. He was eight years, three months and 13 days old and today was the day that he was going to meet his parents for the very first time. 

He knew the story, of course. About how the hospital empath got hurt real bad by Jensen's abilities when he was born because he was too little to be able to control himself. And how he'd been taken Home right away because it was too dangerous for him to live with his family. And how his mother and father had to wait 17 whole days before they could see him again, and even then it was only on a camera because that was the only way to keep them safe.

Jensen thought he would like having parents. They sent him letters, telling him how much they missed him and talking about all the fun things they would do as a family once Jensen no longer needed to live at Home. The helpers told him that it would be a long time yet before that happened, but at least now his control was good enough to let him meet them face-to-face. 

Jensen was the last stella in his cohort to get to meet his parents. It was because he was a higher level than all the others, he'd been told, but it hadn't been easy to wait.

"Calmly, Jensen," Dr. Tapping said, as she walked with him to the meeting room. 

"Yes, Dr. Tapping," Jensen said. He was fizzing up inside, but he tried to keep that to himself. He was supposed to be in control.

"Well done," she said, then reached out her hand for the lock on the door.

The door whooshed open, and Jensen stepped carefully through.

There were two people sitting on chairs inside the room: his parents. His father's hair was darker than Jensen's, and cut short. He was taller than Jensen had expected.

His mother, Jensen decided, was the prettiest lady in the world. Her face split open on a wide smile as soon as she saw him. "Jensen!" she said, jumping out of her chair. She moved towards him, arms open in a gesture that Jensen didn't recognize. 

He shifted instinctively away from her bare fingers.

"I'm afraid I'll have to remind you not to hug him," Dr. Tapping said. "Physical contact increases his empathic ability." 

Jensen's mother stopped. "O-of course." She crouched down and smiled at him. "Hello, Jensen. I'm your mama." 

"Hello," Jensen said, just like he'd been taught. "It's nice to finally meet you." 

His mother's smile shifted a little. Jensen couldn't tell what the difference was.

"Jensen has been very excited about today's meeting," Dr. Tapping said. She smiled down at Jensen. "Isn't that right?" 

"Yes," Jensen agreed. He was a little embarrassed that Dr. Tapping had noticed, but mostly he was too busy feeling excited to mind that much. "Everyone else already got to meet their parents, but I had to wait longer because I'm a level 5. I didn't like waiting." 

"We didn't like waiting either," Jensen's father said, which made a flush of happiness go through Jensen. His father looked up over Jensen's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dr. Tapping, is it? We thought the extra time would ensure that he was more..." 

"Your son is a level 5 empath, Mr. Ackles," Dr. Tapping said, when Jensen's father didn't finish his sentence. "As such, he requires a great deal of mental fortitude in order to function in society, which translates to a limited range of expression. This has been explained to you." 

"Yes, but-" Jensen's mother said. Her voice got quieter, almost like whispering. "We didn't think he'd be so..." 

Jensen wasn't sure what was going on. "I've kept all of your letters," he told his parents. "Thank you for sending them."

"You're welcome," his mother said, as she stood up and went to sit down next to his father again. She wasn't smiling anymore. 

Jensen had practiced very hard for today. His mental defenses were as strong as he could make them so that there would be no reason for Dr. Tapping to think that he wasn't ready to meet his parents. And yes, eight years, three months and 13 days was a long time to have kept his parents waiting, but he'd been sure that they would be proud of his control, even so.

Except the swirling emotions in the room that Jensen was trying so hard to block out didn't feel like pride. And Jensen knew that something, somehow, had gone terribly wrong with today.

Jensen wasn't sure what to do. And there was only person who he knew he could talk to who might be able to help him figure it out.

"Well, that's a relief," Chris said, eyeing Jensen up and down.

"What is?" Jensen asked, stepping aside to let Chris into the house.

"Oh, you know," Chris said. "Just pleased to see that you're not missing a limb or something equally traumatic. I figured that there had to be a disaster afoot for you to call me."

"Jackass. Water?" Alcohol wasn't the best idea for stellae.

Chris nodded. "Please," he said, and waited until Jensen had fetched them each a glass of water and they were ensconced on the couch in the den before speaking again. "Where's the old ball and chain?" 

Jensen blinked at him. "The what?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Jared. Usually you two are attached at the hip." 

"Oh. He's at yoga." 

Chris made a noise like he'd just choked on air. "What?" 

"What?"

"Yoga? What the hell for? Can't really picture Jared as a yoga buff."

"Apparently it's good for calming the mind and the spirit," Jensen said. "Which is ridiculous, but Jared thinks it's a good idea anyway. He doesn't listen to me." 

"He's trying to keep you safe," Chris said. He gestured broadly with one hand. "In a totally hippie, New Age way, granted, but at least he's trying. The last thing we need is you going into emotional overload again because Jared can't keep a lid on his feelings." 

"I didn't ask him to," Jensen said, without thinking.

"Ah," Chris said. 

"What do you mean, 'ah'?"

"This has something to do with Jared." Chris sat back, shaking his head. "I should have guessed in the first place, honestly; all your problems are Jared-related these days."

"He's not a problem," Jensen protested. 

Chris pointed a finger at him - for emphasis? "But he is your main priority these days, and he's completely restructuring how your life works. It only makes sense that it would cause short-term problems."

"I don't like that word," Jensen said. "Isn't there something better?"

"I'm not going to sit here and debate with you about how to define Jared's presence in your life. You're deliriously happy, I get it. Would you tell me what it is he's done already?"

"He wants me to meet his parents," Jensen confessed.

Chris started laughing.

"This isn't helpful," Jensen told him, in case Chris didn't realize.

Chris shrugged, still laughing, which meant that he probably did. Why was Jensen's only friend a jackass? 

"Honestly, I'm kind of surprised the poor guy waited this long," Chris said, when he'd finally caught his breath. "If it was up to him, y'all would have been married and getting ready to adopt by now."

"Don't even joke about that," Jensen said. Him, with children? No one would ever allow it.

"I'm gonna be saying 'I told you so' someday, and you're not going to have a leg to stand on."

"Could we get back to the point?" Jensen asked, irked.

"Which is what?" Chris asked. "You can't tell me that all your research on relationships didn't suggest this would happen. Boy meets boy, boy meets boy's parents and pretends to like them. You know this is normal."

Jensen nodded.

"Then what's the big deal?"

"I never factored in a situation where 'meeting the parents' would be something that happened to me," he admitted. "It's a little overwhelming to consider."

Something about that seemed to sober Chris' amusement. "No one would blame you for that," he said. "What did Jared say, exactly?"

"He told me to think about it. Said I didn't have to, but that his parents were excited to meet me." Jensen scoffed internally. "I doubt anyone in my entire life has ever been excited to meet me."

"No bet. And of course they're excited. You're brain-married to their son."

"Why is that a reason for them to want to meet me? Jared seemed to think it was entirely self-evident."

"Because it kind of is," Chris said. "Unless you're you, apparently. He'll have told them how to behave, you know. They're not going to be expecting you to act like a Normal."

"I find myself in the strange position of wanting them to like me," Jensen confessed. He considered that statement, and added, "which is obviously a fruitless hope."

"Maybe," Chris said, which could have meant anything at all. "What are you going to do?"

Jensen shrugged. "Meet them, I suppose. And hope that things go well."

"You sound like you've already made up your mind."

He nodded. 

"Then why did you invite me over? Because I might have been exaggerating before, but you do pretty much require hell to freeze over before you invite people into your house."

Jensen looked at him. It wasn't a woebegone look, nor a piteous one. It was just a look.

Luckily, Chris had known him more than long enough to recognize that Jensen's face was never the place to look for answers and, more than that, knew what problems Jensen was likely to have with this situation.

"You've finally decided to tell them about Jared, then?" he asked. "Your parents?"

"I don't know."

Chris took a long drink, obviously taking the time to think. Jensen waited.

Finally he spoke. "You want my advice?"

"Yes," Jensen said. 

"I think you should tell them. They'll want to know. And probably meet him."

Somehow, this was actually more shocking than the revelation that Jared's parents wanted to meet _him_. "Really?"

"God save me," Chris said, under his breath. "Yes, really. For about the same reason that his parents want to meet you. Besides, don't you want to show Jared off to them?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Jensen said.

Not that he fooled Chris. "You want equality in your relationship? Well, this is the sort of stuff you need to do. And I'm sure he wants to meet them, too."

That derailed Jensen again. "What? Why?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Because he cares about you, you idiot. Which means that he cares about the people in your life. Few and far between though they are."

"But I don't-"

"You can't hold yourself to the same standard," Chris cut in. He was wearing what Jensen had gathered was the face he made when he was being serious. Jared said it made him look like he was about to murder someone with his bare hands. Jensen had reminded him that Chris was a telekinetic so he didn't need his hands - bare or otherwise - to kill someone, to which Jared had responded that he was going to have nightmares forever, thanks so much, Jensen. 

Jensen loved Jared, but he really didn't understand him most of the time. 

"Jared's a Normal," Chris continued. "Do you expect him to be able to feel your emotions or float or throw things with his mind?"

"Of course not."

"Then you shouldn't expect yourself to be able to do the things that Jared can. Jared's the type who cares about stray kittens and homeless people he passes on the street. He doesn't think any less of you because you can't do that."

"That's logical," Jensen admitted. 

"So suck it up and go tell your folks that you're in love. If they don't die of shock, they'll probably be happy for you."

"You're kind of a terrible person," Jensen told him. "You know that."

Chris grinned. "Course I do. It's not my fault you haven't got any other friends to go to for advice."

Well. Jensen couldn't really argue with that.

\------

It was later that week that the first letter arrived. 

Though he hadn't been expecting it, per se, Jensen could only be surprised that it had taken the Stella Institute so long to find out about his empathic bond with Jared. 

From the outside, it looked like nothing so much as a form letter from the IRS. Jensen could appreciate the subtlety, if not what the letter itself signified. 

The letter was equally unambiguous in both its demands and its expectation that Jensen would obey the summons without question. Considering that Jensen had had nothing to do with the stella program in 15 years, he thought that somewhat presumptuous of them.

He burned it instead.

\------

Once every two months, Jensen went to visit his parents. These visits were invariably stilted but well-meant, which was pretty much how things had always been between him and his family. It was expected. 

They couldn't help but want Jensen to be Normal, and Jensen had no choice but to disappoint them. He'd never lived with them, never even entertained the idea once it became clear just how challenging it was for an empath of his level to function in Normal society, which had limited the amount of interaction that he had with them growing up. And Jensen loved them, really he did, but his inability to prove it made the words - the only thing he _could_ offer them - very little comfort.

But still they tried, and had always done their best to show him as much affection as his siblings. So Jensen joined them in shouldering the awkwardness of his bi-monthly visits.

After his conversation with Chris, Jensen had considered going to visit early, but had discarded the idea almost immediately. This conversation was going to be difficult enough without throwing his parents off before he'd even started. 

"Jensen," his mother greeted as she opened the door. "How nice to see you."

"Hello," Jensen greeted her, and stood obediently in the hallway as she pressed a paper-thin kiss to his cheek. A brief impression of tight, blue sadness leaked into him, then dissipated like the air.

Jensen was relieved. Before Jared, that feeling would have lingered under his skin for the better part of an hour. 

"Your father's in the dining room," his mother told him. Jensen already knew that. They always sat in the dining room when he visited. After over a dozen years of visits, he would have figured his mother would have figured he'd have noticed the trend by now.

His father was reading the newspaper, his hair slightly grayer than it had been the last time Jensen had come. He looked up as Jensen and his mother walked in.

"Good to see you, son," he said, standing up to offer Jensen his hand. The clasp of their fingers revealed that it wasn't good, not really, but Jensen had learned by now not to comment.

His mother served them all tea, and then they got down to the business of trying to make their lives intersect.

They traded pleasantries and inconsequential information about their lives: Jensen talked about his new project at work; his father talked about his new project in the garden; his mother talked about his younger sister's latest project at college. Jensen wasn't sure if he had been told that his sister was in college, but he didn't dare ask, just in case he'd forgotten.

He didn't see either of his siblings very often. It wasn't surprising. His pattern of visits was very regular, which made him easy to avoid. 

"Anything new going on at work?" his mother asked, after they'd exhausted their normal topics. "Made any friends?"

"Donna," his father said in an undertone, as though it was taboo to mention friends simply because Jensen wasn’t good at collecting them. 

"It's a perfectly valid question," his mother said, her voice slightly louder than it had been a moment ago. "He could do with some more friends. It's not good for anyone to be alone all their lives."

Jensen stared at his mug, steam rising from his blessedly sugar-free tea, and didn't even try to suppress the way that Jared automatically came to mind. The man was in there all the time anyway, both literally and figuratively; Jensen didn't really see the point of trying to deny it to himself.

Across the table, his mother breathed a quiet little 'oh' that brought Jensen abruptly back to the present. He realized belatedly that the corner of his mouth had lifted without his conscious thought. The resulting curve looked nothing like a smile, but it was considerably more than Jensen had been able to produce before Jared.

"Jensen?" his mother asked. "Are you… smiling?"

"More or less," Jensen said. He took a breath. "I have something to tell you."

"Well?" his father asked. "What is it?"

Jensen looked at them and said, "I've got a boyfriend. His name is Jared. I want him to meet you."

Silence.

Jensen drank his tea.

"What?" Jensen's mother asked finally. Her voice sounded uncommonly high and thin. Jensen suspected that it was an indication of surprise. 

"Jared's my boyfriend," Jensen dully repeated. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him. I understand if you find this surprising." 

"How did this happen?" his father wanted to know. 

Based on Chris' reaction to the actual sequence of events, Jensen doubted that telling the truth was the best route to take. Normally, he didn't really care enough to bother lying, but he did try to avoid upsetting his parents any more than necessary. 

"In what I assume is the usual way," he settled on. "He was persistent and I was receptive."

"But that's- we didn't think you were capable," his father said.

The words caught him like a blow to the stomach.

"Of love?" Jensen said and was, for once, glad of his preternatural calm and the way it kept his voice steady when he said, "I've always been capable. I just can't express it clearly." 

_Which you should know,_ he didn't add. It wasn't worth the effort.

"And is Jared-" his father's words trailed off. 

Jensen didn't know how to finish that sentence. "Is he what?"

"What type of stella is he?" his mother filled in. 

Jensen shook his head. "He's not."

His mother stilled. "Not…?"

"A stella. Jared's Normal. We work together."

Silence. 

Silence.

Silence.

Jensen looked at his parents, who were looking at him, open-mouthed. "Is everything okay?"

"You're dating a Normal?" His mother's voice still sounded too high. Jensen thought that she looked a little pale, as well.

Perhaps Chris' hyperbole about heart attacks hadn't been that far out of line.

"Yes," Jensen said. "Is that a problem?"

"It's…" His mother trailed off, then cast her eyes at his father.

"It's, erm, unexpected," his father finished. 

"Ah," Jensen said. "Yes, it would be. I wasn't expecting his interest either, I must admit."

"Why did he choose you?" 

"I wouldn't know. You'll have to ask Jared." 

"Of course," his father said, under his breath. "Should have seen that coming."

"So," his mother said. "I assume it's serious if you're telling us about it. How long have you been dating?"

Had they ever been dating? Jensen was fairly certain that Jared's daily coffee runs could be considered courting behaviour, but he wasn't entirely convinced that dating had been a thing they did. The bond had made that largely unnecessary, and the fact that Jensen could hardly go anywhere in public made choosing some random location to spend time together seem pointless and unpleasant in the extreme.

He decided to settle on the least ambiguous answer. "It's serious. I have been in a..." What was an appropriate non-specific word to describe the empathic link? "…committed relationship with Jared for seven months and 23 days. He's moved into my house."

"And you didn't tell us sooner?" 

Jensen was confused. "I wasn't aware I needed to."

More silence.

"Well," his mother said finally, with what Jensen assumed was a false smile. She did that a lot when he was around. "We shall have to meet him."

"That's reasonable," Jensen told her, glad that Chris had forewarned him of this possibility. "Should I bring him with me next time?" 

"Nonsense." That was Jensen's father. "We'll do this properly."

_Properly?_

His mother nodded. "We'll go out for a nice meal, so we can get to know… Jared, was it? So we can get to know Jared. I'll look at our schedules and call you with some workable dates, shall I?"

Long practice had taught Jensen that some questions weren't actually questions. This, he suspected, was one of those times. "That would be fine."

"Good. Now, have you heard what Uncle Dorian said in his speech at your cousin Antonella's wedding?"

"I didn't know she got married," Jensen admitted honestly. A spark of mischievousness led him to add, "guess my invitation got lost in the mail."

His mother fluttered her hands. "There's no need to be resentful, Jensen. You know perfectly well why they didn't invite you." 

"I'm pretty sure that you're the one who told everyone to stop inviting you to weddings anyway," his father said. He was grinning, which was presumably designed to ease the criticism. It clearly wasn't in response to Jensen's attempt at humour. Not when they so obviously hadn't recognized it as such. 

Jensen sat back in his chair, scowling on the inside. 

Jared would have found it funny. 

\------

Jensen returned home from visiting his parents feeling drained and melancholy, which was pretty much par for the course. He also found himself feeling somewhat anxious, which was new. His mother had left a nebulous future meeting between them and Jared hanging over his head which Jensen didn't particularly enjoy. 

It was a relief to be home. 

Fishing out his keys, Jensen made his weary way to the front door. The door opened without fanfare, and Jensen breathed a sigh as he stepped gratefully inside. 

And walked straight into a wall of noise and emotion.

"In here, Jensen!" he heard, amid the chaos which, after the first horrifying shock, slowly resolved itself into a good eight people all crammed into his den. 

 _Their_ den, he corrected himself, as Jared beamed at him from the couch.

"Grab a seat!" Jared invited, gesturing to the space beside him which was definitely already occupied by parts of three different people. Why did they all have to sit tangled up like that? "The more the merrier!"

Jensen disagreed. He suspected that Jared's friends also disagreed. They didn't like him, which Jensen couldn't blame them for. He wouldn't have liked him either, if he was them.

Normally, Jared's anchoring presence in his head would have been more than enough to let him sit there and watch Jared and his friends interact. Being stuck in the middle of a puppy pile like Jared was a ludicrous idea, obviously, but Jensen should have been able to deal with an hour in the room with a bunch of overly familiar strangers. 

But he was already worn thin from the meeting with his parents, and he knew that any residual emotions that he got off Jared's guests were likely to be uncharitable. Which he absolutely did not feel like dealing with right now.

"No, thank you," he said.

Jared made the pouting face. "Why not? Come on, Jensen!"

"I'm not good company right now," Jensen said, which he had learned was a code for saying he didn't want to be forced to be social.

"Is he ever?" a voice asked, not quite quietly enough.

Jensen was not capable of putting up with this shit today.

"Enjoy yourselves. I'll be upstairs," he managed, before turning on his heel and heading back into the hallway. 

Behind him, the noise from the den resumed, albeit at a lower volume than it had been when he'd walked in. He doubted very much that that would last. 

Jensen climbed the stairs to the second floor, doing his best not to stomp. He charged into his - _their_ \- bedroom and then stood in the middle of the room for several moments, just breathing. Today was not a good day.

"Wow," a voice said, and Jensen whirled to find Jared standing behind him. "I didn't know you did that."

"Did what?" Jensen asked, instead of what Jared was doing there. 

"You were kind of growling? If you're secretly a werewolf, this would be a great time to tell me." Jared's 'joking around' smile was on his face, but his emotions were far too red for amusement.

"Just say what you came up here to say," Jensen suggested.

Jared's nostrils flared, and Jensen watched as he visibly suppressed the impulse. "Okay. Are you pissed that I have friends over?"

'No' would have been a lie, but Jensen wasn't selfish enough to go with 'yes'. "It's fine," he said instead. "This is your home too."

Jared pressed his lips into a thin line. "Not actually what I asked you. Which means that the answer's yes." He sighed. "You know, if you want me to send everyone home, I will."

"I don't want to ruin your time with your friends," Jensen said, in case Jared didn't know that. 

"I know," Jared said. "And I'm not trying to make you feel like you're not welcome in your own home."

"We're both doing an excellent job, clearly," Jensen said, before he could think better of it. A spark of anger mixed into the unappealing green-brown swirl of Jared's emotions. "I'm fine," Jensen said. "You should probably go back to your guests."

Jared's face shifted into an expression that Jensen couldn't identify. "Jensen."

"What?" Jensen demanded, irritated. "I don't know what that face means. My name isn't a sentence. You want me to understand? You need to tell me what you want."

Jared's next expression was easier to guess: wide-eyed shock. "I thought you always felt what I feel." 

"That doesn't make me a mind reader. Right now, you feel concerned, irritated, patient and a dozen other things. The same as you have for this entire conversation. Which doesn't tell me shit about what that particular iteration of my name was supposed to convey." 

Chagrin. Guilt. Different, but still unhelpful. 

"Sorry," Jared said, which, really, Jensen could have figured out on his own. "I just meant that you shouldn't feel unsafe here. I'll send everyone away." 

The downstairs was unexpectedly quiet, Jensen realized belatedly. Presumably all of Jared's friends were listening at the bottom of the stairs. 

Which made him all the more determined to be the bigger man here. "I told you, it's fine. This is your home too. You should get to entertain, if that's what you want." 

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable," Jared said, because he was nothing if not stubborn. A fact which no one knew better than Jensen. 

They were going to stand here all day at this rate. 

"Jared," Jensen said. "I want you to go back to your friends and finish the afternoon like you'd planned. I am irritable but fine, so I am going to stay here until I calm down. And no, I'm not irritable because of you, before you ask. I had a trying day. This was just bad timing."

"But-"

"No," Jensen said. "Seriously. This is what I want. Let's not give your friends any more reason to hate me." 

"They don't hate you," Jared said immediately. 

Jensen remained unconvinced. "I know they give you advice about leaving me."

Grief. Anger. Frustration. Protectiveness. 

"I don't blame them for it," Jensen felt compelled to admit. "But that doesn't make it any less true. How many times have they offered you advice tonight?"

"None," Jared said, his lips pulled into a thin line.

Jensen sighed internally. "I told you, I know they do it. You don't need to lie to m-"

"None," Jared repeated, fiercely protective. "Because I told them all that I'd kick them out if they said any of that shit in our home."

Oh. Well then.

"Thank you," Jensen said, not entirely sure it was the right response but wanting to do his best anyway. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're the only one who wants all of us in one room at the same time. I'm not up to dealing with human interaction today. You'll all have a better time if I stay up here."

"Are you going to tell me what happened to make you so irritable?"

"Later." Jensen flicked his fingers towards the stairs. "Go see to your friends, before they strain something trying to overhear us." 

Indecision coloured Jared's mental landscape. Thinking quickly, Jensen stepped up to him and pressed a quick kiss to Jared's mouth. His awareness of Jared went from having him in the back of his mind to drowning in the golden light of his soul for the heartbeat their lips were pressed together. Jensen made sure to express his surety and general 'fine-ness' at Jared as strongly as he could during that brief contact.

"Go," he told Jared, when they parted. Wonder of wonders, Jared actually listened this time.

"Okay," he said, with a nod. "But you'll let me know if you change your mind. Come down anytime."

Jensen nodded to make Jared happy. "I will," he said, because even he could mouth meaningless platitudes when he needed to.

He watched while Jared headed back downstairs to rejoin his guests, then took a deep breath and went to go find something to do to calm his mind.

\------

Increased volume and a vague sense of good cheer soon permeated the house, although Jared's obvious guilt kept turning the world green. 

Jensen stayed in the bedroom, noise-cancelling headphones firmly in place as he dragged his brush along the canvas. It had been 63 days since he'd last needed to do any painting - a record, for him - and he could feel tensions he hadn't been aware he was carrying slipping away with each soothing, careful brush stroke. It was at once comforting and disconcerting to see how, even after all these years, it still had that effect on him.

He was nearly finished fleshing out the intentionally rough blocks of colour with darker detailing by the time the last of Jared's guests left. Jared had been growing increasingly greener as the afternoon wore on, so it was no surprise to Jensen when Jared immediately mounted the staircase once he'd closed the door for the last time.

Jensen absently tugged his headphones off and kept working.

"Jensen?" Jared called, when he was halfway up the stairs.

"In the spare room," Jensen answered, because he'd learned that Normals liked it when he stated the obvious. 

"Jensen, I-" Jared was already saying as he opened the door, only to stumble to a stop, both verbally and physically, when he saw Jensen. Surprise cut momentarily through the concern. "What are you doing?" 

Personally, Jensen thought that was fairly self-evident. "Painting," he said anyway.

"I didn't know you could paint." Jared paused. Thoughtfulness. "Although, considering how amazing your blueprints always are, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised." 

Personally, Jensen didn't see what the two skills had in common.

"Are you feeling better?" Jared asked, after a moment of silence.

"Yes," Jensen said. "I find painting relaxing."

"That's good." A pause. "Are you going to tell me what had you so strung out?"

Somehow, Jensen didn't think this was the appropriate time to bring up his conversation with his parents. Better to wait for a less emotionally fraught moment.

"Eventually," he said. "Not now though."

"Okay," Jared said. He seemed vaguely dissatisfied with the response. Jensen wasn't sure how to make him feel better. 

"I appreciate you leaving me in peace to recover," he tried.

Chagrin. Obviously not the correct approach. "Not a good thing to be thanking me for, Jensen. This is your house."

"Our house," Jensen corrected. "Which means that you have equal right to use it."

Jared sighed. "I'm not denying that, I'm just…" In lieu of a chair, Jared sat down on one of the many still-not-unpacked boxes on the floor. "We probably should have had this conversation before I moved in."

Jensen stilled. "What conversation is that?" he asked, looking away from the canvas to focus on Jared.

"House rules. You know," Jared continued, when Jensen stared at him, uncomprehending, "Division of chores, acceptable behaviours, visitor policies."

"That sounds unnecessary," Jensen said. "We've handled all of that without rules."

"Obviously not very well," Jared answered back, with a touch of amber asperity colouring his words. "How about this: from now on, if I want to invite people over, I have to check with you first."

"I don't want to-"

"You're not." 

"You don't know what I was going to say," Jensen protested. "You can't refute something I haven't said yet."

"I know you, Jensen," Jared said. "I think my guess is going to be close enough. So no, you're not being unreasonable or putting me out. This is my idea, remember?"

"You don't need my permission to have people over."

"Clearly I do." Jared ran a hand through his hair, which he often did when he was working through a difficult problem. "Look," he said. "I'm not saying that I shouldn't invite people over. I'm saying that I should tell you first, so that you know they're here. And if it's a real problem, then you tell me and I'll uninvite them."

"This is a very unbalanced rule."

A grin curled the edges of Jared's mouth. "That's mostly because I don't care if Chris comes over." Jensen didn't bother suggesting that he might invite someone other than Chris over to the house - the very thought was ridiculous. "But let's make it a general guideline: no one shall enter this house without both of us knowing about it."

"This still seems unnecessary."

Amusement. "I've had this sort of rule with roommates before, you know," Jared said. "So it's not unusual."

"I don't believe you," Jensen said. "Why would you need to know when someone came over?"

Jared felt at once exasperated and ruefully amused. "Because my roommate's girlfriend at the time was kind of a nudist. It's the sort of thing it's nice to get forewarned about." 

"I see." 

"Not as much as I did. So? Are we agreed?" 

"You're not going to drop this until I agree, are you?" Jensen said, resigned.

For some odd reason, the question made Jared feel pleased. "Nope."

"Fine," Jensen surrendered. "Are there any other 'house rules' you want to institute while we're at it?"

Jared rubbed his neck with one hand. Jensen had noticed that this usually happened when he was uncertain about something. "It's not a rule, but…"

Jensen so hated dissembling. "Just tell me already, Jared."

"Can you at least try to get to know my friends?" Jared said, all in a rush. 

Jensen felt abruptly weary. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please, Jensen?" Jared asked, wide-eyed and sincere. Damn his earnestness. "I'd like it if you could be friends with them too."

"Your friends don't like me, Jared. There's no need to be delusional about it." 

Protectiveness. Jensen wondered whom it was far. "Only because they don't know you." 

"I hardly think getting to know me will help," Jensen said. "I'm not exactly the type to improve with prolonged exposure." 

"It made me like you more," Jared pointed out. 

"Yes, but you make no sense." 

"And you don't think that I would have friends who were equally nonsensical?" Jared asked. "I think you'll like them." 

Jensen shook his head. "You're friends with Chad. Your ability to judge character is clearly lacking." 

That made Jared laugh. "You can't hold Chad against me. No judging my taste due to idiotic high school friends; it's in the dating rule book." 

"Is it?" Jensen asked, interested. He must have bought the wrong one. "Which version?"

A yellow sort of sadness flared abruptly across their bond. Jensen could only assume it was because of him, but he had no idea what he might have said to cause it.

He blinked up at Jared. "Did I say something wrong?"

Jared shook his head. "Not all of my friends are like Chad," he said, rather than answering. And then, quieter, "I really do think you'll like them, if you give them a chance." 

Jensen was baffled by this conversation. "Why do you care so much? It doesn't affect how we all feel about you." 

More yellow. And frustration, oddly. "Sometimes, I'd like to spend time with you and them all at once, rather than feeling like a kid shuffling between two homes." Sincerity. "I want you in my entire life, Jensen. Not just bits. And that means not making excuses when my friends are over." 

"This is like the parent thing," Jensen realized. "Isn't it?"

Hopefulness. "If I say yes, will you agree to meet my friends properly?" Jared asked, with a smile. 

Honestly, Jensen still had only the vaguest idea why this was so important to Jared, but he could feel how much Jared wanted him to agree. And, as uncomfortable as the idea made him, he would rather his own discomfort to Jared's unhappiness.

So he surrendered. "Fine. But not in a public venue."

Jared put on an overly exaggerated expression that Jensen assumed was meant to convey horror. "Dude, of course not! How insensitive do you think I am?"

"I'm not going to answer that," Jensen decided.

Jared sniffed. "Meanie," he said, though he didn't feel particularly upset. "My friend Sandy's having a barbeque in two weeks. Maybe 20 people. Think you can manage that?"

Dammit. They both knew the answer to that one. 

"Have I been invited?" Jensen asked, in lieu of an actual response.

"I'll let her know you're coming," Jared said, which wasn't an answer either.

"Okay," Jensen said. "But you're not allowed to blame me when they still hate me at the end of it." Odds were good that they'd probably dislike him even more, to be honest.

"As long as you don't deliberately antagonize them - don't even start, yes, you would - then we're in agreement."

"Fine."

"Awesome." Jared cocked his head to one side, and something tentative limned their bond. "Are we good?"

Jensen had assumed they were already 'good', Jared's attempts to expand Jensen's social circle aside, but he wasn't entirely surprised to be proven wrong. He was glad that the matter had been resolved to Jared's satisfaction, though. "Yes."

"Awesome. Because I am dying of curiosity right now." Jared started to walk towards him, then paused. "Do you mind?"

Jensen was confused. "Do I mind what?"

Jared gestured at the canvas. "If I take a look."

No one had looked at Jensen's art since he was at Home. The thought of Jared, in particular, looking at it, made something flutter in his chest. It was a squirmy kind of feeling; Jensen couldn't tell whether it was good or bad.

Jared was definitely feeling hopeful at him, though, so Jensen decided to err on the side of making him happy. He sat back, setting his brush aside and working the tension out of his fingers. "Go ahead."

Jared wasted no time in drawing up to Jensen's shoulder and peering at the painting. His breath sucked in sharply. "Wow." He flicked through a rapid series of emotions, the resulting mess too complex for Jensen to get a clear read on him.

"Was that a good sound?" Jensen asked. 

"I think it was more complicated than 'good'," Jared said, still staring at the canvas. "I'm - Jesus, Jensen, I'm not sure what to think. It's amazing."

"But?"

Embarrassment. "It's a little, um, haunting. I'm not really sure how to react to it."

Jensen shrugged. "It's just a picture."

"Is that what people look like to you?" Jared asked. 

Jensen looked back at the painting. It depicted a bustling street, full of people and foreshortened storefronts. The faces peered out at him, as bland and unhelpful as they always were. "Yes."

"Wow," Jared said again, although his feelings in the back of Jensen's head had coalesced enough to suggest that it was a distinctly different kind of 'wow'. "They barely have any facial features at all."

Well, obviously. "Level 5 empath," he reminded Jared.

Jared winced. "Right, yeah. Sorry."

Jensen waved off the apology. 

Jared was still staring at the painting.

"What?" Jensen asked.

"What's all the greenish-gray stuff?" Jared asked, using his fingers to mimic the spiky undulation of the green-gray mist that Jensen had peppered over the picture.

"Oh, that's you," Jensen told him.

Jared blinked. "What?"

"That's how you've been feeling today," Jensen said. 

A sudden pulse of interest. "You perceive emotions as colours?"

"No."

Confusion. "Then how can I feel green?"

How long had it been since he'd last tried to explain this? "Because the limitations of spoken-" Jensen glanced at the painting "-and visual mediums make it difficult to find another way to describe it. Colours are the closest approximation."

"Huh," Jared said. "So what feeling does green represent?"

"It's not a binary connection," Jensen protested. "No one is ever feeling only one emotion."

"Then tell me what I've been feeling that makes me seem green," Jared said, undeterred. 

Jensen sighed. "Concerned. Content. Exasperated. Amused. Guilty. Should I go on?"

"Sounds chaotic."

Jensen shrugged. "Like I said, green."

That earned him a laugh. "Fair enough," Jared said. "Do I seem less green now, at least?"

Jensen nodded. "You do."

"Well, that's good, at least. You hungry? I was going to throw together a snack, if you want some."

"No," Jensen decided, after a moment's thought. He picked up his brush again, then paused as a thought occurred. "Will it displease you if I continue working? I can join you downstairs if you prefer."

Jared waved a hand. "You go right ahead and paint. Far be it from me to interrupt the creative process."

Taking him at his word, Jensen washed the drying paint off his brush and chose a new colour. Despite his words about a snack, Jared stood and watched him for several long minutes instead of leaving.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Jensen asked finally.

"Does it bother you?"

Unfamiliar as it was to be the recipient of this kind of scrutiny, Jensen had to admit, "No."

Pleasure. "Then, yes. I think I am. You're really good, you know. Not that I know much about art, but I can still tell it's good. Did you take lessons?"

Jensen considered. "After a fashion." 

Jared chuckled. "Because that wasn't mysterious at all."

And Jensen had no desire to explain further, so he simply shrugged and kept painting, Jared's regard warming him from the inside.

All in all, a far superior experience than he was used to.

"This is meant to be a calming exercise, Jensen," Dr. Tapping said. She put a hand on Jensen's shoulder, and he felt the rush of her encouragement drowning out his previous frustration. "Relax."

"Tyler said it was wrong," Jensen told her. He tried to recall the devastated sense of inadequacy that the comment had inspired in him, but it was gone. He quietly mourned the loss of that emotion. "He said that faces don't look like that, but they do. I can't fix them if I don't understand what's wrong."

Dr. Tapping turned to look at where Tyler was working on his own painting a few easels down. "Tyler should be focusing on his own calming exercises," Dr. Tapping said. Her voice was loud enough for Tyler to hear, and Jensen could only assume that something in the way she said the words was responsible for making Tyler's face pale. 

"Sorry, Dr. Tapping," Tyler mumbled.

"We'll talk about appropriate behaviour later," she said. Her eyes shifted down to Jensen to let him know that she was talking to him now. "Tyler sees people differently to you, because he's a glider and you're an empath. He was basing his opinion on limited information."

Unconvinced, Jensen looked at his painting. It was a scene in the training ground, full of novice gliders being watched by the helpers. Jensen had worked very hard to show the fluid way they moved when they weren't on the ground. He hadn't thought there was anything wrong with the faces.

"That's quite enough of that." Dr. Tapping crouched down at Jensen's side and looked at his painting. "I think it's a lovely painting, Jensen. Do you believe me?"

Jensen had no reason not to. "Yes."

"Then you shouldn't let Tyler's opinion upset you. One person's opinion doesn't make you right or wrong. Besides," a smile, accompanied by a burst of yellow kindness, "this is meant to be relaxing. Don't try so hard to be perfect."

Well, that was strange. "Why not?" Jensen asked, twisting around in his chair to get a better look at her. He and the other empaths had all been taught how important it was to make eye contact when talking to people - apparently they weren't very good at it, but he was 10 now, and he'd had enough practice to know better. "We're supposed to be perfect at everything else. Why is this different?"

Without warning, a wrenching, twisting emotion slammed into him. Jensen gasped, reeling back in his chair, only absently aware of the cries from the people around him as they suffered the backlash of that feeling too. Several of the helpers were there in a heartbeat, their hands pressed to his exposed cheeks and hands as they pumped calm, ease, acquiescence into him. Jensen relaxed immediately. 

The whole process had taken maybe 30 seconds. 

"Sorry," Jensen said automatically. He looked around to check the damage. 

The helpers had turned away from him as soon as he was stable, moving their attention on to the seven or so other stella who had been affected by him. Not so bad. The last time he'd lost control, he'd infected nearly 50 people, some of whom had also been empaths who'd only spread the emotions along. 

"It wasn't entirely your fault," Dr. Tapping said. "I caught you off guard. I'm sorry as well. I think we're going to end this session a little early, everyone," she said, speaking loudly so that everyone could hear her. "Anyone who is still in need of support, please stay behind until we can see to you. Everyone else, please proceed to your next stations."

Everyone nodded, and Jensen winced at the sudden scrape of dozens of chairs on the hard floors as the room stood as one. The paintings were left to dry on their easels as each stella busied about cleaning off brushes and palettes and stacking them neatly away.

Jensen lingered. "Dr. Tapping?"

She glanced at him. "We'll discuss your consequence later, Jensen."

Obvious and not what Jensen wanted to know. "What emotion was that?" he asked. "I haven't learned it yet."

Dr. Tapping's mouth thinned out into a line. "Don't worry about that for now. That's a lesson for another day. Off you go."

"Yes, Dr. Tapping." Jensen took one last look at his unfinished painting before joining the lineup shuffling out of the room. 

He consoled himself that he would have plenty of time to practice his faces over the next few weeks after they confined him to quarters for his mental slip.

\------

Regret. Guilt. Jensen was very familiar with them now. Even to this day, they left a grey, oily feeling on his mind.

Jensen probably shouldn't have been surprised by the arrival of the second letter - exactly 14 days after the first. This time, Jensen wrote a terse letter of his own in response - his blocky, draftsman's handwriting as unambiguous as he could make it - cordially asking them to die in a fire. 

He felt a sort of vicious satisfaction in dropping it in the mailbox.

\------

Jensen's mother called him at work a few days later with a handful of 'suitable' dates to choose from. Jensen told her that he would ask Jared and get back to her. 

Of course, that meant that he actually had to tell Jared, which he hadn't managed to get around to yet. 

"My parents want to have dinner with us," Jensen blurted, when Jared arrived with his daily offering of Chai tea. 

Jared paused in the act of handing the paper cup over. "What?"

"My parents-"

"No, sorry, I heard you the first time. I was just a little… never mind. Do you mean today?"

Jensen shook his head. "My mother has provided a list of possible dates to choose from." He extended his free hand to pass over the copy he'd made while on the phone. "Let me know which one works best for you."

"Okay?" Jared said. He didn't feel very sure.

Jensen paused. "Do you not want to go?" he asked. That eventuality hadn't occurred to him.

"Wha- yes, of course I'd like to meet your parents." Jared smiled, and Jensen could feel his sincerity. 

"Right. Good." At least that was out of the way. Jensen took a sip of his drink and looked at Jared over the rim of the cup. "Shouldn't you be working?"

Vague bemusement. "Probably, yes. Is that… it?"

It was Jensen's turn to feel a touch confused. "I assume so. Have I forgotten something?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll, uh, look at those dates and get back to you?"

"That would be appreciated." Presuming the conversation to have reached its logical conclusion, Jensen returned his attention to his work. Jared, who was used to him, only stood there for a few seconds before chuckling, shaking his head and leaving.

\------

It wasn't until a few days later that it occurred to Jensen that he might owe Jared a more detailed explanation than that. 

This time, Jensen waited until they were home and had some free time after dinner before he broached the topic. He dropped down on the couch next to him; Jared immediately shifted over to make room.

"You need to tell me when I don't explain things sufficiently," Jensen told him. "I can't actually read your mind." 

"I dunno," Jared said, with fondness behind his smile. "You seem to do a pretty good job of it, if you ask me. What didn't you explain sufficiently?"

"About my parents. You seemed surprised." 

"It did come sort of out of left field," Jared admitted. 

"That's not it, though. You were unreasonably surprised. Why?"

Jared looked away with a laugh that felt more embarrassed than amused. "Geez, Jensen, I kind of thought your parents were dead." 

"Dead?" Jensen repeated. "Why?" 

Jared's answering shrug meant absolutely nothing to him. 

"That does not help."

Jared ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno. You never talk about them. No shopping for birthday presents or fielding phone calls from your mama. I guess now I know that you do talk to them given the whole joining them for dinner thing, but it's not even on your calendar that you ever see them." 

It was at about this point that Jensen realized that Jared was functioning under a rather large misapprehension: namely, that Jensen would be normal in at least one aspect of his life. 

He's tried not to wonder if Jared would ever get tired of being let down in that respect. 

"Jensen?" Jared's voice broke through his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." 

"You didn't," Jensen replied honestly. "I just realized something that should have been more obvious to me. You think I had a normal childhood."

Jared frowned. "Okay, that's one of the more ominous sentences I've ever heard. Was your childhood really that unusual?"

"By your standards, yes. What do you know about how stellae are raised?" Jensen asked. 

Jared's head cocked as he considered the question. "Not much," he admitted finally. "I know that they went to separate schools in Texas, but I don't think that's the norm everywhere." 

"It depends on the strength of the child," Jensen told him. "US law requires the segregation of stellae from society until such time as they can be considered in control of their abilities." He sent Jared a short twist of wryness through their bond. "Which, for highly ranked stellae, can take rather a while." 

He felt the shock of that settling into Jared's mind.

"So," Jared said. "Is this your way of telling me that you went to a private school?"

Eye contact was important when conveying potentially shocking information. Jensen remembered this. "I was raised in a government-regulated facility until the age of 18, at which point I progressed directly to college."

Jared's mouth gaped. "I, you… seriously?"

Jensen found it a puzzling question. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be serious?"

"So you," Jared paused, wet his lips and started over. "How old were you went you first went to this… facility?"

"A day or two old, I believe. I don't remember it, unsurprisingly."

A feeling of horror rose to the surface of Jared's mind before he suppressed it.  

"You're getting better at that," Jensen told him. 

Guilt. "Sorry." 

"Why? It was a compliment." 

"Never mind," Jared said. 

He did that sometimes, shrugging off Jensen's confusion instead of answering him. Jensen had to admit it was frustrating. How would he ever learn if Jared didn't explain these things to him? Jared's expression held none of the usual clues that Jensen could have used to start figuring out what he meant, and his mental landscape was shifting too quickly to get a handle on it. Irksome. 

Jared was clearly still focused on what Jensen had told him.

"Why did you have to grow up there?"

"So I could learn how to control my empathy," Jensen said, although he would have thought that was obvious. "I was a danger to myself and others." 

"What kind of a place was it?" There was an odd sort of urgency to Jared's emotions. 

"I'm not sure I understand the question," Jensen admitted.

A strangely silvery mesh of frustrated worry and horror spread across the bond. "Were you treated well?"

"Of course." Something about the taut line of Jared's shoulders suggested that he wasn't satisfied with his response, so Jensen tried to explain in more detail. "Our physical and emotional needs were adequately cared for, and there were many doctors and helpers on hand to oversee the development of our abilities."

Something in this seemed to mollify Jared. "And you received training to do… what? Build your shields?"

Jensen nodded. "Among other things. Much of my early education was focused on being able to recognize and identify myriad emotions."

A spark of interest. "How did you do that?"

"Practice," Jensen said. "Lots and lots of practice."

"Huh." 

"In any event," Jensen said, since they'd got rather off topic. "I don't have the same relationship a Normal would have with their parents because I had very limited access to them while growing up."

A green spike of sorrowful understanding. "And that's why you never talk about them."

"My parents are my parents," Jensen said. "But they were essentially well-meaning strangers to me as a child." And as a teenager, and as an adult. "I don't have the same relationship with them as Normal do. But, still, we make the best of the connection we do have." He looked at Jared, whose face was set in an expression that Jensen couldn't parse. He wondered what in the maelstrom of his emotions it was expressing. "Does that explain the situation better?"

Jared nodded. He still felt vaguely uneasy, but the worst of his worry seemed to be gone. "Can I ask you one thing?"

"What is it?"

"Were you… happy there?"

"Sometimes," Jensen answered, smirking internally at his joke. He felt relief from Jared rather than amusement, which he found odd. Perhaps it was too dark a joke for Jared to be entertained by.

"Okay." Jared looked at him. "Is this conversation over?"

Jensen shrugged. "Unless you have something to add."

"I'm sure I'll think of something eventually, but for now I'm good. Netflix?" Jared invited.

And really, sitting on the couch and watching TV with Jared sounded like a perfect way to spend the evening.

"Don't mind if I do." Cautiously, Jensen sidled closer so their thighs touched. Taking place as it did through two layers of fabric, the contact wasn't overwhelming.

Jared's fingers twitched in a not-unfamiliar desire to touch, before falling quiescent against the back of the couch.

Jensen did his best to ignore the swirl of Jared's emotions - contentment, wistfulness, quiet sadness - as they both turned their attention to the television.

"Are you ready to go again?" Dr. Tapping asked him.

Jensen wasn't, not really, but he nodded anyway. 

A helper came forward and pressed his large hand to Jensen's neck. Feelings that weren't his slithered into Jensen's mind: amorphous and yellow.

He knew this one.

"Happiness," Jensen said, and the helper stopped touching him. The happiness dwindled to a sense of gentle euphoria that was easily ignored.

"Good," Dr. Tapping said. "This next one will be a bit more complicated. Ben?"

Jensen didn't know who Ben was, but it didn't really matter when the helper touched him and a new feeling invaded. 

Jensen almost said happiness again, because it was still yellow, still made his heart lift and his mood rise. But Dr. Tapping had said this one was harder, so he probed deeper. There was something coppery about it, he decided, something that reminded him of pride, but also superiority. Sort of like how he felt when he did something well. Which would make sense for something like-

"Triumph?" he guessed, and was rewarded by his own version of the feeling when Dr. Tapping nodded. The helper let go again.

"Very good," Dr. Tapping said. She consulted her copy of Jensen's file, and everyone waited while she made a note. "This next one may be challenging," she said, which could have meant anything. "But it's important that you are able to recognize all kinds of emotions. Do your best."

Jensen waited, idly flexing his hands within the arm straps while a different helper stepped up. Her hand connected with Jensen's neck and he jolted sharply, slamming his head back against the chair hard enough that it would have hurt if he had any mental capacity to spare for anything except the seething, boiling emotion rolling into him. Everything was red, so dark it was almost purple, and sparking like a million bursting filaments. Jensen wanted to, he wanted to… hurt someone. Yes, this was an emotion about hurting people, making them hurt the way he'd been hurt, making them pay because they were everything that was wrong with the world and he, he-

-he didn't like this feeling.

Jensen's mental defenses slammed down, blocking out that barrage of emotion. He could feel it still, beating against his skin, looking for a way in. He let out a keening sort of whine, trying to curl away from the feeling.

"Enough."

The hand left, leaving Jensen hollowed out and sweating in the aftermath. 

"Well?" Dr. Tapping asked. "Do you know what it was?"

"I know I never want to feel it again," Jensen said, even though that wasn't what she had asked him.

She smiled. "Not an option, I'm afraid. You won't be at Home forever, and the world is full of all kinds of emotions. The stronger ones are the most dangerous to you, so you need to know them, even if they're unpleasant."

"So?" Jensen panted. "What is it? Anger, rage, but more than that."

"Hatred," Dr. Tapping told him. "Extreme hostility towards someone or something else."

Jensen nodded, and carefully put a name to the violent tangle still snared in the back of his head. Dr. Tapping would have him experience it at every session from now until he could prove that he definitely knew it. Jensen doubted that it would take long. He didn't think he'd ever forget that emotion.

Dr. Tapping made another note. "If you'll lower your mental shields again, Jensen, we'll continue."

And if Jensen's sigh as he did as he asked was entirely internal, at least that meant his control was improving.

Thus far, Jensen was not terribly enamoured of barbecues. 

He focused on eating from the plate in his hands, hoping that it made him look unapproachable. As he'd been told more than once that he was always unapproachable, Jensen had high hopes for this plan. 

The yard - owned by one of Jared's friends whose name Jensen had forgotten - was occupied by 15 other people. They were all huddled in various pockets of conversation. There was a lot of talking, smiling and laughing. 

Jensen felt fairly safe in assuming that everyone was having a good time. 

Jared was in a particularly loud group at the far end of the porch. For the first couple of hours, Jared had been all but glued to Jensen's side, radiating concern and soft violet optimism. He'd made it his goal to reintroduce Jensen to all of his friends - not that it helped Jensen any - which was far more social interaction than Jensen was capable of   
weathering. 

Which was why he'd made a strategic retreat to the food table and refused to come back. 

One of his hands twitched towards the collar of his shirt; Jensen restrained himself through sheer force of will, his conversation with Jared before they'd left the house playing in his head:

_"You could wear a scarf if your stars are bothering you," Jared said, gesturing at Jensen's neck._

_Jensen belatedly realized he was fiddling with his shirt. Three of the stars that marked him as an empath curled over the top of the collar._

_"I doubt I'd make a very good hipster," was all Jensen could think to say in response._

_"What? Of course you would! An artfully draped scarf, some oversized glasses with chunky frames, maybe a pair of high tops. Easy." Gentle kindness. "Would you like me to get you a scarf? Or maybe a turtleneck? I'm pretty sure I've got one upstairs."_

_"I don't need to hide my stars."_

_"Don't need or don't want?" Jared asked, with uncanny precision._

_"Don't want. I like the way they keep people away," Jensen admitted. "Well, most people," he amended, with a significant look at Jared._

_Jared waved a hand in the general direction of Jensen's face. "It wasn't my fault! I was distracted by all the pretty!"_

_"The worst part about this is that I can feel actually telling the truth."_

_Unexpectedly, Jared grinned. "Have I ever mentioned how much I love your sense of humour?"_

Jensen was never going to understand Jared.

"Do you want to go inside?" a voice asked him suddenly, drawing Jensen out of the memory and back to the present. 

He turned to see a woman with dark hair standing behind him. One of Jared's friends, obviously. She was smiling. 

"Why would I want to go inside?" Jensen asked. "Jared says that barbecues are for being outside."

She shrugged. "You just look a little overwhelmed."  

"No, I don't." He had an entire life's worth of experience that said he wasn't capable of looking anything. 

Her smile remained. Jensen found that unusual. 

"You don't," she agreed. "But Jared said you could probably use a break from the crowd. With everyone out here, it'll be nice and quiet inside."

That made more sense. Knowing Jared, he was probably timing the whole event down to the second based on his previous observations of Jensen's social interaction threshold.

Much as Jensen didn't appreciate being managed, he had to admit that escaping for a while sounded like a wise idea.

"Yes. Please," he tacked on. Manners. He could remember them. He was supposed to be making an effort here.

"Follow me," she said, turning.

Although Jensen felt fairly certain that he could find the door on his own, he didn't protest. Everyone stared at them as they walked across the lawn. Jensen ignored them.

"I'm Sandy," the woman said as she led the way into the house. "In case you forgot." 

It wasn't a case of forgetting as much as not paying attention in the first place. That was probably inappropriate to admit, though. 

"Sandy," Jensen repeated, doing his best to commit the name to memory. "I'm Jensen," he said, since that was the normal thing to do.

Sandy chuckled in response. "Oh, I definitely know that."

Jensen wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he remained quiet.

"Here we go," Sandy said, as they walked through the kitchen and entered the living room. "Nice and quiet. Please, sit down."

Jensen did so, and was somewhat surprised when Sandy sat down next to him, not quite far enough away to keep him from getting nervous. He didn't like being in arm's reach.

Irrationally, he found himself wishing he'd taken Jared up on that offer of a turtleneck.

"I was surprised when Jared said you were coming today," Sandy said, and Jensen shrugged.

"You and me both. Jared is persuasive."

Her smile flickered briefly before subsiding. "Look, Jensen, can I talk to you for a minute?" 

"Yes," Jensen said, a little nonplussed by the fact that she felt the need to ask. Surely she could see that she was already talking to him. 

"I know you don't like us," she started.

"Not true. I don't know you well enough to dislike you." He looked at her curiously. "Or was I supposed to accuse you all of disliking me in return?"

"We don't dislike you."

Jensen snorted internally. "Even I can tell that was a lie."

Her fingers fidgeted with a lock of her hair. Nervousness? 

"It's not dislike, exactly," she said. "It's just... I've known Jared since we were kids. And it's hard to see Jared with someone-"

"Like me?" Jensen finished. 

Sandy's eyes cut away. "He's just so full of enthusiasm for everything," she told the wall behind him. "He has so much love to give." 

"I know," Jensen said. Did she think he hadn't noticed? How could he not? 

"Do you? Because it doesn't seem like you care much either way."

"I'm a level 5 empath," Jensen told her, feeling something halfway between irritation and amusement. "Which means I'm quite possibly the most socially inept person in the entire country."

Her eyes widened at that. "Are you… making a joke?"

Jensen shrugged. "Yes and no. I've learned to find humour in the realities of my situation. But the fact that I'm an empath makes certain things impossible for me."

Her mouth thinned. "Like love?"

"Of course not," Jensen said, disgusted. Why did people have to keep thinking that of him? "That's not what I mean at all."

The signs of nervousness were gone, replaced by evidence of what Jensen could only assume was anger or indignation. "Then what do you mean? Because, from where we're sitting, it looks like you're not capable of loving Jared the way he loves you, and that's not healthy."

 _Similes,_ Jensen reminded himself. _Explain things to Normals using similes._

"I'm like a recording studio," he said, after a moment's thought. 

Sandy cocked her head. "How do you figure?" 

"Soundproof."

There was a pause. 

"Nope, sorry, you're going to have to explain it to me. I'm not following." 

Great. As if coming up with analogies wasn't difficult enough - now he had to explain them too? 

The things he did for Jared. 

"I'm on the inside of a recording booth," Jensen said, feeling through the idea slowly. "And I can see the hallways on the other side of the window where all the people are. But I can't hear anything they try to say to me and I'm terrible at lip reading, so it's hard to communicate."

There was a momentary silence.

"Can't anyone on the other side of the window lip-read?" Sandy asked.

"What?"

Her eyes rolled. "I'm extending your metaphor. It seems like the people on the other side of the window should be able to see you trying to communicate, at least. But you're just-" She paused, obviously groping for an appropriate - and perhaps inoffensive - word. "-blank."

This is why Jensen hated figurative language. "I didn't say it was a good metaphor. I'm trying to explain something that you have no concept of."

"Which is?"

"The fact that I have very limited access to the visual and emotional cues that most people use to express themselves; I am bad at understanding them and even worse at using them. That's why I'm so 'blank' all the time." He did air quotes around the word because Jared was a terrible influence.

"Why?" Sandy asked. "I've met other empaths who aren't… like you."

"I'm a level 5 empath," Jensen said again. "It comes with the territory."

"Hmmm," Sandy said, which meant nothing to Jensen whatsoever. Her brow furrowed at the same time, which suggested that it was most likely a sound of anger, confusion or deep thought.

Jensen put about equal odds on all three possibilities.

"I'm going to ask you something," Sandy said, after a brief silence. "And I want you to be absolutely honest when you answer it."

 _I don't owe you anything,_ Jensen wanted to say, except he did, kind of. She was trying to protect Jared, after all. "Fine."

"Do you love Jared?" 

"I do," Jensen said, even though he knew it was inadequate. 

"Does he know that?" 

"He does." 

"Because you told him so?" Sandy was frowning. Apparently there was a right and a wrong answer to this question. 

"I do tell him," Jensen allowed. "But I probably don't need to. He's felt it for himself." 

"What," she said. Her voice didn't rise, and so it took Jensen several moments to realize that that had likely been a question. 

"I don't know what you're asking me," Jensen admitted. "Can you clarify?'

"How is Jared able to feel your love for him?" She paused, then added, "if this is the setup for a dirty joke I'm going to hit you."

Jensen had no idea what she was talking about. "A what? No. Jared and I are empathically bonded. Which means that we share emotions." 

Sandy's eyebrows raised. "All the time?" 

"For me, yes. For Jared, only when I send him something deliberately." She should have known this already. Jared must have told his friends, mustn't he?

"Prove it."

Jensen was never going to listen to Jared again. His friends were intolerable. "How do you propose I do that?"

"Tell me what Jared's feeling right now." 

Such an imprecise request. Only a Normal would ask something like that. 

Still, Jensen did his best. 

"Happy," he said, because it was easiest to start with the strongest emotions. 

Sandy opened her mouth to speak, but Jensen wasn't done. 

"Weary, calm, nervous, concerned, protective, amused, fond, wistf-"

"He's all of those at once?" she interrupted. "I don't believe it." 

Jensen looked at her. "Are your emotions ever straightforward?" 

She paused. Considered. "Fair enough. And those do sound like feelings Jared might be wrestling with today. So either you're a good liar or you actually can read Jared's emotions."

"The second one takes infinitely less effort," Jensen pointed out, because sometimes people deserved it when he was snarky.

Sadly, Sandy ignored him. "But you're saying that you can do the same thing for him? That you can make him feel your emotions? And that's enough for him?"

Jensen hesitated. "I could show you," he offered. 

Sandy cocked her head. "Show me what?" 

"How I feel about Jared. If it would make you feel more comfortable with the fact that he and I are... us." 

"You can do that?" 

There were a dozen different answers to that question. "Yes," Jensen settled for. It would probably be fine. He extended a hand, waiting. "If you want." 

"I do." 

Jensen wasn't surprised, although he had been hoping she would say no. 

Deep breath. He could do this. 

Automatically, he reached out for Jared and wrapped all of those jumbled emotions around himself, tying himself to reality. To who he was. Who they both were. 

This wasn't the first time he'd done this since leaving Home. It wasn't even the first time he'd done it since bonding with Jared. Neither fact stopped it being any less terrifying to open himself up to a stranger. 

Then he let his fingers come to rest gently on Sandy's wrist. 

As expected, the maelstrom of Sandy's emotions was all around him in an instant, heavy with disapproval and a grudgingly green patience. Thankfully, his training and the tether of Jared's mind kept him firmly aware of the border of where he stopped and she started. Deliberately, he pulled out the places inside himself where his strongest feelings for Jared existed and sent the resulting swirl of sunshine and blue and gold and rose at Sandy. 

She made a noise when Jensen's emotions touched her. It was wordless and therefore useless to Jensen, but she didn't pull away, which Jensen figured meant that he wasn't required to stop. 

He gave her a solid thirty seconds or so, which would hopefully be enough to convince her of Jensen's sincerity where his words had failed. Then he carefully disentangled them, being careful not to leave too much residual emotion behind as he withdrew. It wouldn't do to accidentally make Sandy fall in love with Jared.

"Is your health optimal?" Jensen remembered to ask. He was pretty proud of himself for that. 

"I think so?" Sandy said, voice rising on the last word. 

Jensen was puzzled. "Why is that a question?"

She blinked at him, then laughed. 

Confusing woman. This was why Jensen didn't talk to Normals. They made no sense. "I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Sorry," Sandy said, although Jensen didn't know what she was apologizing for. "Jared told us that you can be a bit blunt. It caught me off guard."

Ah. "I get that a lot."

"I think you're more like an interrogation room. Than a recording studio," she clarified, when Jensen stared at her, uncomprehending. "With the one way glass, you know? So you can see out, but no one else can see in. And the only way you can communicate is with the intercom system, but then you're just this disembodied voice which is weird when everyone else is used to being able to see the person they're talking to. And I don't think this," a gesture at Jensen's face, "is really what it means to see you."

How was Jensen meant to respond to that? Was an expression of gratitude appropriate? An apology?

"Thank you for letting me see the real you," Sandy said, before Jensen could make up his mind. Her eyes looked a bit shiny. "I think I understand better now." 

"I'm glad," Jensen said, because it was the truth. 

Mounting anxiousness. Not his. 

"What are you looking at?" Sandy asked, and Jensen realized that he'd turned automatically towards the doorway. 

"Jared's coming," he told her. "Presumably, he's reached his Worry about Jensen Threshold for today."

"You can feel him coming?"

"I can feel him always," Jensen answered honestly. "Feeling him come closer is easy."

"Huh," Sandy said.

"Here you are," Jared said, rounding the corner with a smile on his face. The anxiousness grew stronger as he looked at Jensen and Sandy sitting together on the couch, still much closer than Jensen usually allowed people. "I was wondering where you got to."

Jensen shrugged. "I was all barbequed out. Sandy let me sit here for a while."

A pale red flare of pride. At the fact that Jensen had remembered her name?

"That was nice of her. Hey, Sands," Jared said, which confused Jensen for a moment. Who was he talking to?

"Hi, Jared," Sandy answered. Presumably, it meant more than a simple greeting the way she said it, judging by the frown Jared levelled at her. 

"You guys having a good talk?" he asked. Wary protectiveness.

"Yes, actually," Sandy said. She glanced at Jensen. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Jensen wasn't entirely sure he did, honestly, but he didn't _disagree_ , which was probably the more pressing concern. "It has been enlightening," he settled on.

"Making friends and influencing people, huh?" Jared asked, grinning as his emotions calmed. "I knew you could."

"Well," Sandy said, rising to her feet. "I'd better check on everyone else. You two can stay here as long as you need, okay?"

"Thanks," Jared told her. 

"Thanks for the talk, Jensen," she said, and barely afforded him the time to say 'you're welcome' before vanishing out the door.

Jared didn't seem surprised by her sudden exit.

"You okay?" he asked, with gentle blue concern.

"Well enough," Jensen told him. "And I think Sandy hates me less now, which is good."

Jared sighed. "They don't- you know what? Never mind. I'm not getting into it right now. I'm glad you had a conversation with her, and I'm glad you think it helped. You need more friends and I'd be happy to share mine. If you want them."

"Given the fact that I don't have any friends to begin with, I hardly see how I could get _more_."

Exasperation. "First of all, stop being so pedantic. Second of all, what about Chris?"

"Chris is… a special case."

A strange intermingling of pleasure, jealousy and affection spread across the bond. "Like me?"

"Sort of like you," Jensen allowed. "But not really."

"Well that was amazingly informative, thank you." Jared put on a smile. "You ready to go back outside?"

"Can we sit here for a while?" Jensen asked. "My quiet time wasn't all that quiet."

Jared chuckled and settled on the couch next to him. "Sure." He was close enough to touch, but Jensen couldn't find it in himself to protest. "I'm glad you came."

"Yeah. Me too."

Someone was hurting.

At five years old, Jensen was now officially a Big Boy. Very few stellae arrived at Home as anything other than babies, so reaching five was a sign that he could control his abilities well enough to keep from hurting himself or anyone else. Jensen didn't have as much freedom as most of the others his age because of his stars - five, just like him - and how he had a lot more power than the others. By an 'order of magnitude' Dr. Tapping had tried to explain to him, but Jensen didn't know what that meant. He was trying very hard to get better though, and he was getting better.

Maybe when he got strong enough to not hurt people he'd be allowed to have his family. Some of the other kids had been talking about families. They sounded nice. And his had sent a letter that one of the helpers had read to him, so Jensen was working hard not to feel other people at all so that Dr. Tapping and the helpers would let him meet his family.

But he couldn't do that right now, because someone was very sad and it was making _him_ very sad too.

"Jensen?" one of the helpers said. "Why are you crying?"

"I c-can't st-st-stop," Jensen stammered at her, between great, heaving gulps of air. Tears rolled fat and hot down his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation that was nearly as scary as the sadness that was squeezing his chest until he was afraid he was going to pop.

Her hands landed on his neck, and Jensen could feel her pushing happiness and calmness at him, but it wasn't enough to drown out the sadness. He sobbed harder and hoped that no one was nearby. He didn't want to get in trouble for infecting people again.

The helper was talking into her radio. Jensen kept crying until he felt dizzy, and then cried some more.

More hands, trying to guide him down the hallway. But Jensen was shaking too hard to walk, so they carried him instead.

A door shut behind him and all the pain and sadness disappeared, leaving nothing but Jensen behind. He slumped in their arms, abruptly exhausted.

"External influence," someone said.

"We can't keep him in here forever," another voice - or was it the same one? - said. 

"Jensen," a voice said. "Open your eyes, please."

It was hard, but Jensen managed to open his eyes. His eyelashes kept sticking together and his eyes felt all gummy. "I don't like crying," he told the man in front of him.

The man smiled, and Jensen felt his soft pink encouragement. "It's not much fun, is it? Do you know why you were crying?"

"Someone was sad," Jensen said. He looked down at his shoes. "I tried not to let them make me sad too, but they were really sad. I couldn’t help it."

"That's okay. Do you know who was sad?"

Jensen shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry," a voice said. "Can you tell us anything about the sad person?"

"Like what?" Jensen asked, mystified.

Silence. Jensen looked up to find all the helpers looking at each other over his head.

"Never mind," the man in front of him said. "Can you stay here for a little bit longer? We don't want you to start feeling sad again as soon as you leave the room. Kelly will stay with you."

"Okay," Jensen agreed. He didn't know which one Kelly was, but that wasn't important. He'd figure it out when the rest of them left.

All of the helpers except for one left the room, then Jensen and Kelly sat around waiting until someone came back and said it was okay to go back to his room. Jensen didn't feel sad again, so everything was fine.

\------

It was another two days before Jensen found out who the sad person was.

He'd been spending his free time in the garden, pretending that all the flowers were his friends. He could tell by what colour they were what kinds of friends they would be, and it was so much easier than understanding the other stellae who kept all their colours inside where he wasn't supposed to look at them. Also, he was allowed to touch them, which was miles better than people friends, who were too dangerous to touch.

Jensen was just reaching out to run his fingers down the waxy petals of a smiling pansy when sadness curled around his heart and tugged. It didn't make him start crying again, but it was definitely the same sad person as last time.

Probably, he should go find a helper. They'd wanted to know who the sad person was, right? But if the sad person was a stella they might get in trouble for being too emotional, and Jensen didn't think it was that easy just to stop being sad. When he'd been crying, he hadn't believed how much it hurt.

So, instead of heading off to find a helper, Jensen wandered further into the garden, following that blue wisp of sadness. At the end of it, he found a boy a few years older than him, sitting on the edge of the pond. 

"Why are you so sad?" Jensen asked him, coming to a stop a few feet away.

The boy startled and nearly fell into the pond. "Where'd you come from?"

Jensen pointed. "Back there. Why are you so sad?"

Now the boy was looking at Jensen's neck, where his stars were clearly visible over the top of his shirt. "Get out of my head."

"I can't help it. You're being loud." Jensen peered at him. "Can I help you be less sad?"

"I don't want you doing anything to my head." The boy stumbled to his feet and started backing away.

"I didn't mean it like that. And I haven't learned how yet, anyway." Jensen wasn't explaining very well. He tried another tact. "I cried for you."

The boy's eyes widened. "What?"

"A couple of days ago. You were so sad that it made me cry. I've never felt sad like that before. Dr. Tapping says that there are lots of ways to make people happy. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

The boy stopped backing up. "What's your name?"

"Jensen."

"Come sit with me." The boy sat back down on the edge of the pond and waited for Jensen to join him. "I'm new here," the boy said. "I'm sad because I miss my family."

Jensen was fascinated.

"I have a family somewhere," he said. "I haven't met them yet. Can you tell me about yours?"

The boy looked at him. "You really should ask me for my name first."

"What's your name?" Jensen parroted obediently, even though he'd forget it again right away. "Can you tell me about your family?"

He got a smile for that. "My name's Chris. And yeah, I can tell you about them."

Unfortunately for Jensen, time did not magically stop to prevent the agreed-upon date for their dinner with his parents from approaching far faster than he appreciated. A week after the not-as-bad-as-it-could-have-been barbeque with Jared's friends found him shrugging into his navy suit in preparation for their dinner with Jensen's parents. Which was almost certain to be awkward.

Jensen wasn't having the best month.

"So," Jared said, as he knotted his tie in front of the mirror. "Anything I need to know in advance?"

"Like what?" Jensen asked.

Jared shrugged. "The usual: important dates, topics to avoid, jokes to make, stuff like that."

"I… don't know any of those things. Why didn't you ask me about this in advance?" He could have prepared something.

"Guess I didn't think about the fact that you haven't done the meet the parents thing before." A pause. "You haven't, have you?"

Jensen glanced at him. "Do you really need to ask?"

"Well, I don't know, do I? You are impossibly good looking - maybe you had a whole bunch of flings in college that you didn't tell me about in case I thought you were a tramp."

"Why are you so nervous?" Jensen asked, because sometimes it was easier just to cut through the babble coming out of Jared's mouth and get straight to the heart of the matter. "Also, your tie isn't going to get any straighter. Stop tugging on it."

Jared dutifully abandoned his reflection and came over to join Jensen by the bed. "They're you're parents," he said, as though that explained something. "They're important to you, and I want them to like me."

"Everyone likes you. I like you. And I don't like anyone."

That earned him a trickle of fondness and a kiss pressed to his hair. "You'll never get me to believe that. And it's a meeting the parents sort of thing, I think. It's normal to be nervous."

Jensen considered. "Have you done this before?" 

"Twice," Jared confirmed, which surprised Jensen. He would have expected that people who weren't him would have been begging to show Jared off to their parents. 

"That's all? Who?"

"My first girlfriend and my second boyfriend. I never really had all that many relationships that got serious enough to be at the parent-meeting stage, to be honest." Jared offered him a smile. "Luckily, this is the last time I ever intend on doing it, so I want to get it right. It would be a shame to have my perfect parent-approval rating get damaged right when I really mean it."

"You'll be fine," Jensen told him, because he wasn't sure how to address the rest of what Jared had just said without being unnecessarily awkward. "Why wouldn't they like you?"

"It is hard to imagine," Jared agreed, a grin flirting at the edges of his mouth. He snagged Jensen's sleeve as Jensen went to move past him, being careful not to come anywhere close to Jensen's skin. "Hey."

"What?"

"You know that, in the end, all I care about is what you think, right? I hope that your parents like me, but it won't change my mind about you if they don’t."

Jensen nodded. "I do. Although it's nice to hear." He paused before adding, "the same for you, obviously."

Jared's grin sparkled. "Obviously," he said, but he felt a touch relieved. He offered Jensen his arm. "Shall we?"

"Might as well get it over with," Jensen agreed. He even slipped his hand through the crook of Jared's elbow, just to feel the way it made all of Jared's emotions brighter.

The fact that it made Jared smile wider was just a bonus.

"Oh," Jared said, as they walked down the stairs. "Did you get the message on the machine? It was something about a check-up; I didn't listen to the whole thing."

In point of fact, it had been the next escalation in the Stella Institute's efforts to make him do what they wanted. The message had provided a date and time for an assessment - no mention of location, Jensen couldn't help but notice - and threatened drastic action if he ignored them again.

Jensen had deleted it.

"I got it," he told Jared. "Thanks."

"No prob. You ready for this?"

"Not really," Jensen answered, and Jared chuckled.

"Good. Me neither. So at least we're going down together."

"I'm so reassured," Jensen said, and Jared laughed all the way to the car.

If only Jensen could feel optimistic that the rest of the evening would go so smoothly.

\------

In his parents' defense, it was a very nice looking restaurant. 

Jensen had given the directions and Jared had driven them there, not questioning Jensen's lefts and rights until they'd found somewhere to park deep in the commercial part of town.

Dubiousness. "Your parents live around here?" Jared asked, which was about when Jensen realized that he had, once again, not explained thoroughly.

"We're not going to their house." He gestured to the building across the street. "They've booked us a table at _Basilico_. Do you really think I wear a tie to visit my parents' house?"

At his side, Jared froze and dug his fingers into Jensen's arm. 

"Here?" Jared hissed in an undertone, as though the maître d' would dash out of the restaurant and clobber both of them for slander if Jared was overheard. 

Jensen permitted himself an internal sigh. "They mean well." 

Jared felt appalled. His shock was purple and cloying in Jensen's head. "But they must know that you'll have trouble eating here. All these people!"

"They probably felt that we'd all be more comfortable to have this meeting take place somewhere that wasn't their house. Or ours," he added, after a moment's thought. "And they always did prefer neutral ground."

"Neutr…? This isn't a land war, Jensen, it's dinner."

"I know," Jensen said, slightly mystified by the touch of pique colouring Jared's thoughts. "You're upset. Why are you upset?"

"Sorry," Jared said, and Jensen felt a blanket of deliberate calm smoothing over the jagged points of Jared's feelings. "I just don't understand how your parents, of all people, could expect you to sit in a restaurant full of loud people and loud feelings during the dinner rush. It's one thing if a stranger does it, but they should car- they should know better."

Jensen decided to ignore that abortive word. They needed to show a united front if they wanted any hope of the evening not being intolerable, which meant this was no time for squabbling. "You're overreacting. I'll be fine."

"You shouldn't have to do this!"

"Which doesn't mean that I can't." Jensen looked up into Jared's eyes. "I don't need rescuing from my parents. Or from a restaurant. It isn't the first time I've eaten in one, and it won't be the last. Besides, I've got you here. That should make things easier on a number of fronts. Okay?"

Jared smiled, a touch of ruefulness colouring his thoughts. "You know, it's awfully hard to argue with you when you're being all logical like that. You should stop."

"I'll get right on that," Jensen said, relieved that Jared was going to follow his lead on this. He started towards the restaurant, then paused as something occurred to him. "You should probably know that I haven't told them about the car accident or the empathic link. It seemed unwise."

"Gotcha," Jared said, thankfully not pursuing it. "And you should probably know that I'm here for whatever you need tonight, okay? No matter what. Even if it's a hasty getaway out the window."

"Thank you," Jensen said. And then, because they were going to stand on the side of the road all night otherwise, "Let's go."

"I shall be guided by you," Jared said, falling into step and positively radiating determination.

His parents were already seated and waiting for them when they were shown to their table. Jensen kept the introductions brief and to the point, trying to ignore the gray nervousness that Jared was spreading everywhere.

"So, Jared," Jensen's mother said, once they were seated and the waiter had taken their drink orders. "You and Jensen work together?"

Jared nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Well, not together exactly, since we're in different departments, but in the same company, yes. He's a brilliant designer." 

"They already know that," Jensen told him. 

Jared grinned at him. "Doesn't make it any less true." His attention turned back to Jensen's parents. "I met Jensen on my first day." Another grin in Jensen's direction. "He didn't like me much." 

Fondness. Amusement. 

Which meant it was fine to tease. "Not true," Jensen corrected. "I didn't care   
one way or the other." 

Jared winked at him. "Which is much better."

Jensen's parents were looking at them with expressions that were similar to Chris or Jared watching a sporting event.

"How long have you been dating?" Jensen's mother asked. 

"Officially?" Jared asked, whatever that meant. "Four and half months. But I was gone on him long before that." 

"Really?" Jensen's mother asked, eyebrows raised. "How unusual."

Something in Jared stilled. "How so?"

His father cleared his throat. "You'll forgive us if we're still find your relationship with Jensen a little surprising. His… condition has always made it difficult for him to connect with others."

Anger. "I guess that makes that just makes me lucky," Jared said, with a big smile. "If people were less foolish and judgmental, someone else would have had the sense to snap him up ages ago."

Jensen's parents laughed, although Jensen didn't know why. Jared was still smiling, even though he was seething on the inside.

Luckily, the waiter chose that moment to return, and everyone's attention turned to the menus. Jensen made sure to steer the conversation to something neutral as soon as the waiter left, not about to let the previous topic get resurrected.

This was going to be a long night.

\------

Dinner passed in a stilted manner that Jensen was familiar with: he experienced it pretty much every time he talked to his parents. Jared was doing his best to keep things moving smoothly, but Jensen suspected that it was a losing battle.

His research - and Jared's comments - had indicated that 'meeting the parents' was invariably an awkward situation, so he would have considered it par for the course, except for one thing.

Jared was upset.

He was doing a good job of keeping his emotions under control, but Jensen had spent enough time with Jared in his head to know when things weren't right. 

Suspicious, Jensen looked across the table at his parents.

There was nothing that Jensen could glean from their behaviour to suggest what the problem was. They looked at Jared when he spoke and smiled in response to his words. Their questions seemed innocuous.

But he could feel Jared getting increasingly uncomfortable, could tell that the unhappy blue film over Jared's emotions was because of the parts of this conversation that Jensen couldn't access. And his parents had to be doing it that way deliberately.

In the silence of his own head, Jensen growled.

"Okay?" Jared asked in an undertone, the single word enough to pull Jensen out of his thoughts. He realized that the entire table was looking at him, presumably waiting for a response to a question he hadn't been listening to.

"I should be asking you that," Jensen whispered back, which made a slight frown briefly crease Jared's brow before he smoothed it out. 

"I'll tell you later," he promised, which Jensen doubted. Now was not the time to bicker about it, though.

Jensen glanced at his parents. "Can you repeat the question?"

Conversation turned to his siblings, and Jensen was obliged to listen and respond with appropriate noises for the remainder of the main course. It wasn't until the plates had been cleared and Jared and his parents started deliberating dessert that Jensen could return to his previous line of inquiry.

His mother was nodding along to some story that Jared was telling about why he couldn't eat cheesecake anymore, by all accounts alert and engaged. His father didn't appear to be paying the same amount of attention, but he wasn't exhibiting any of the signs that Jensen had learned to associate with cruelty or hostility.

So what was wrong?

One of Jared's hands fell to his lap during the course of his story; Jensen didn't give himself time to second-guess himself before reaching over and dropping his own hand down on top of it.

Jared darted a look at him, his surprise painted across Jensen's senses in brilliant, bold pink. Jared raised an eyebrow, a silent question that Jensen had no trouble understanding when they were touching.

In response, Jensen deliberately threaded their fingers together. "Keep them busy," he said quietly.

Fortified by the grounding weight of Jared's emotions, he dared to drop his mental walls, just slightly. The entire room exploded into Technicolor: joy, boredom, guilt, giddiness, fear, love, anticipation washing through him in a ruthless swirling mass that had no beginning, end or source. Gritting his teeth, Jensen waded through the chaos, seeking his parents' familiar presence. He managed only a brief glimpse of what they were feeling, but it was enough to snap him back to himself, shocked beyond all telling.

Frustration. Resentment. Dislike. 

For Jared.

It didn't make sense. 

Jensen shored up his walls almost as an afterthought, most of his attention on what he'd just discovered.

His first reaction was disbelief. Then anger.

How could they not like _Jared_? 

Jared chose that moment to squeeze his hand, drawing Jensen out of his ire. 

"Hey," Jared said, with a smile that Jensen could feel the gentleness of. "Where did you go, just now?"

 _Are you okay?_  
Jensen nodded. "Nowhere important," he said, and managed a small smile before he carefully disentangled their hands. Jared released him without protest, and Jensen's awareness of him faded from all-encompassing to return to the back of his head. Jensen surprised himself by missing it.

Jensen glanced back at his parents, who were showing some fairly obvious indicators of shock. He felt a vicious sort of satisfaction at that. Let them see how Jared made it possible for him to smile. Maybe that would teach them to be kinder.

"I, uh," Jared said, glancing back and forth between Jensen and his parents. "I think I'm going to go to the little boy's room before we choose dessert. Excuse me."

His hand dropped briefly onto Jensen's shoulder in passing, and the warmth of his encouragement was something that Jensen could bask in forever. He waited until Jared was out of earshot, then turned back to his parents.

"I don't appreciate you treating Jared like that," he said. "Stop it now."

"Stop overreacting, Jensen," his father said. "We're treating him just fine."

Jensen persisted. "You're deliberately making him uncomfortable."

His mother laughed. "Don't be silly. Of course we're not. And how would you know how he feels, anyway? He seems fine to me, if a bit nervous."

Anger was burning under his skin, seething and red. Not that either of them had the faintest idea.

"He's not what I expected," his mother continued, tapping one finger against her chin. "I'm not sure he's right for you."

"It's not your choice," he said. "It's mine. And, for the record, he is the only choice for me. If you don't approve, you don't need to see me anymore. Ever."

His mother blinked. "Calm down, Jensen," she said, as though he was simply being petulant rather than exerting all of his effort to keep from storming out right now.

Jensen wondered sometimes if people would be more comfortable with his anger if he could express it non-verbally. Logic dictated that people shouldn't appreciate being confronted by someone who was visibly angry, and yet the fact that he never lost his temper, never raised his voice, never punched or threw things, seemed to create consternation. It was as though angry words delivered calmly lost some of their efficacy, no matter how scathing the words themselves might be. Most curious.

"So!" Jared said, interrupting with his usual impeccable timing. He sat down and immediately placed his hand on Jensen's leg. Jensen didn't shift away from it, and the uncertain tension in Jared's arm eased. "Have we made any decisions about dessert?"

"I have," Jensen said, turning to look for the waiter. "I don't want any."

His mother tsked. "Really, Jensen. You're being childish."

"Oh, I don't think it's him who should be accused of that," Jared said, smiling. His fingers started rubbing slow, soothing circles on Jensen's leg. "It looks like we'll have to take a raincheck on dessert. It's been a lovely evening."

If his parents made any response to that particular lie, Jensen didn't bother listening for it. Focusing on Jared was much preferable.

\------

"So," Jared said, into the silence of the car as they drove home. "I think that went okay."

"Do you?" Jensen asked, looking moodily out the window. "Because I don't."

Jared shrugged. "Well, I mean, it was kind of awkward, but-"

"Why don't they like you?" Jensen demanded.

The pause before Jared answered was telling. "I'm sure they're just getting used to the idea."

Jensen didn't know much about feelings, but he knew what he felt. "No. They resent you. Actively. That's not typical." Jensen looked over at Jared. He didn't seem surprised by this revelation. "I don't understand why."

Jared laughed a little, looking down at his lap. "If I had to guess, I'd say they're jealous of me." 

"What? Why?" 

"I think they're finding it difficult to accept that you can show me you love me, and I've only known you for a year, when they've spent your whole life never being sure." 

"Of course I love them," Jensen said, stung.

Jared's affection was blue with sadness around the edges. "I know that. They know that too, deep down. But they probably wish they had proof." 

"That's stupid."

"If you'll recall, I needed proof from you too, when you told me about the bond." Self-recrimination. "Thought I was just a conveniently-placed Good Samaritan, not someone you actually cared about."

"But you had no reason to think otherwise," Jensen protested. "Not like them. And you don't seem to mind that I'm not constantly proving myself."

"That's true," Jared agreed. His eyes cut over to Jensen. "But if you'd told me that you cared, I don't know how confident I would have been if you hadn't also been able to show me the truth." He shrugged. "Just something to think about."

Jensen was still puzzling through that by the time Jared pulled into the driveway. "I'm still angry at them."

"Me too," Jared surprised him by saying. Jensen looked over, and Jared grinned without amusement. "What? No one gets to treat my boyfriend like there's something wrong with him. If they hadn't been your parents, I probably would have punched someone."

In Jensen's mind, there was only one possible response to that.

He lunged across the seat and hauled Jared into a kiss.

Sex was a work in progress for them.

It wasn't easy for Jensen to be physically intimate, not when every inch of bare skin between them made it harder for him to hold onto his sense of self. Touching Jared amplified their link and filled Jensen's mind with nothing but Jared, the way he felt, the way his feelings mixed and mingled with Jensen's own. Needless to say, it wasn't a state that Jensen was willing to surrender himself to that often.

Tonight, however, he needed to be as close to Jared as he could get.

Jared's shock skittered along his nerves, but he got with the program quickly, hands settling on Jensen's shoulders as he returned the kiss with interest. It wasn't long before they were seriously making out, hands clutching and clinging. The weight of Jared’s lust was heady, like the spiced rum Jensen had tried during his one and only ill-advised foray into alcoholic beverages.

"You sure?" Jared mumbled, and Jensen could feel how much it cost him to ask.

He needn't have bothered worrying. Jared's lust was fanning the flame of Jensen's usually indifferent libido, snarling the both of them up together until all Jensen could feel was the desire to get closer, to have Jared inside him in every way possible.

Heat. Pleasure. Need. Need. Need.

Jensen groaned a 'yes' into Jared's mouth, torn between drowning in the maelstrom of their combined hunger and reveling in the slick tangle of Jared's tongue with his. Jared's fingers clutched spasmodically on his waist, pulling him closer until Jensen was half-sprawled over his lap.

Over the rush of blood in his ears, Jensen could just barely make out the wet sounds as their mouths came together and parted, over and over again. His skin was on fire, the press of Jared's body through two sets of clothing nearly too much.

Not nearly enough.

"Nngh!" Jared tore himself away, his chest heaving and his lips swollen and slick. "Inside," he panted, despite the need that was consuming them both. Jensen whimpered in protest, straining to regain contact.

"Jensen!" Hands on his forearms, holding him at bay before he could stroke his fingers down the tempting column of Jared's neck. He groaned when he felt Jared wrestling for a hold on their - his - emotions, trying to shove them all back down as though want wasn't the only air that Jensen was able to breathe into his lungs right now. "We're not stopping," Jared said. "But we can't have sex in the car."

"Can," Jensen countered, but the lack of skin contact let a sliver of calm intrude into his chaos, making him abruptly aware of the narrow space, the windows, the lack of necessary supplies at their disposal. He inhaled deeply, fighting back the swell of emotions that was threatening to drag him back down again. "You go first. I don’t want you in arm's reach until we're there."

Jared's teeth flashed in a quick smile. "Solid reasoning." He swayed forward as though to give Jensen another kiss, before clearly thinking better of the motion and backing off. Jensen's arms felt cold without the warm grip of Jared's fingers encircling them.

Jared fumbled behind him for the door handle, his eyes never leaving Jensen's face even when he nearly fell out of the car for his trouble. Jensen pressed a hand against his throbbing erection as he watched Jared struggle to get his key in the front door. The contact made him groan, all of his nerves lighting up at once. He couldn't breathe.

Jared vanished into the house, and Jensen forced himself to count to ten, closing his eyes to fend off the sight of the door gaping open in invitation.

"Fuck it," he decided when he hit seven. Close enough. He bolted out of the car and into the house on shaky legs, only just remembering to close the door behind him in his desperate race upstairs.

Jared was laid flat out on the bed when Jensen got there, his erection an obvious bulge in his dress pants and his hands gripping fistfuls of the bed sheets. His head was rolled towards the door, and he licked his lips at the sight of Jensen standing at the threshold.

"You waiting for an invitation?" he gasped.

Jensen was across the room in a heartbeat; he slung himself across Jared's hips, both of them groaning at the contact. Jared's hands to his hips, and Jensen fell into another kiss, shuddering in relief as Jared exploded again across his senses, drowning out everything else. 

"Jensen, Jensen, Jensen," Jared was chanting, his hips rolling up into Jensen's weight and sending electricity zinging through Jensen's spine. Jensen couldn't stop kissing him long enough to think. Didn't want to.

One of Jared's hands dropped to Jensen's crotch and squeezed; Jensen nearly collapsed.

"Please," Jared gasped, mouthing at Jensen's jaw while Jensen sucked in desperate gulps of air. "Let me unzip you. I won't touch, I promise."

They had rules about sex, especially about the amount of skin contact they could have before Jensen risked going literally sex crazed. Granted, Jensen was having remembering those rules right now, but he trusted Jared to think when he couldn't.

"Jensen," Jared moaned. "Please!" Jensen could taste his desperation.

Jensen managed a shaky nod, and hissed as Jared immediately went for his belt, peeling Jensen's pants down with sloppy, hurried movements. Jared's knuckles brushed against the bare skin of Jensen's belly as he worked down the zip, and Jensen choked on the burst of mindless hunger that the touch left behind. 

It took him three tries to find his words. "L-let go of me."

Confused dismay. "Wha-?"

"So I can get my pants off," Jensen explained, before Jared got the wrong idea. He stroked a deliberate hand down Jared's neck, desperate for more of that delicious hunger. "Get the lube."

Desire. Strong enough to make Jensen reel. Jared's hands vanished, and Jensen moaned with the loss.

"Hurry," Jared gasped, the word hissing out between his teeth and propelling Jensen to his feet. 

He wasted an eternity wrestling his pants and underwear off. The shirt he left - it wasn't important. Then he looked back at the bed.

Jared had half-rolled to reach the side table; the muscles under his clothes rippled and flexed with the movement, leaving Jensen dry mouthed and speechless.

"I need you," he breathed. His hand found its way back to his cock, and he gave it a needy tug. "Fuck, need you so much."

"Gimme a sec!" Retrieving something from the drawer, Jared returned to his supine position. His hungry smile turned Jensen's spine to molten gold. "Get back here," he ordered.

Jensen didn't need to be told twice.

The rich fabric of Jared's pants electrified Jensen's nerves as he straddled him again; Jensen moaned and humped mindlessly down into Jared's solid warmth, the thin barrier between their cocks filling him with exquisite agony.

Jared grabbed his hand; Jensen's world narrowed down to Jared under him, inside him and around him. 

"Here," Jared said, from very far away. Something cold and solid hit his palm. Jensen blinked at it, heavy-lidded and half-insensate with pleasure.

Lube. Of course. They could get even closer.

Jensen had never wanted anything so badly in his entire life. 

Awkwardly, he fumbled the tube open, squeezing some onto his fingers. Jared pushed himself up onto his elbows, his rich orange anticipation making Jensen's mouth water as he behind himself and find his hole with slick fingers.

The first push was awkward, uncomfortable, but Jensen hardly noticed. Jared's excitement seeped into him where he was straddling Jared's legs, the thin barrier of Jared's clothes doing little to separate their emotions when Jensen was this overwrought. His body sagged and spread, encouraging the invasion of his fingers, first one, then two in rapid succession. 

He could never manage to hit his prostrate with his own fingers: wrong angle, not enough depth. Jensen didn't care. The cocktail of need burning him up from the inside out was a far greater high than any physical pleasure could ever be.

"God," Jared whispered, as Jensen whined and thrashed on his own fingers. "Wish I could do that to you."

Jensen shook his head, open mouthed and panting. "Can't," he managed, more of a moan than a word. He wanted that too. Oh god, did he want it.

"I know." Jared's hungry smile was a sharp, biting slash of white. "Doesn't mean I can't wish anyway."

Jensen couldn't take any more of this teasing. "Get your cock out," he ordered, and felt the shudder of arousal zing through Jared's body like it was his own. 

Jared's hands fumbled with his belt, tantalizing close to Jensen's bare skin. Jensen bit his lip hard enough to hurt. Sensation was all that mattered, and the glorious, throbbing ache his teeth left behind was almost enough to make him weep.

Jared made a triumphant sound when he finally managed to free his cock, twisting slightly to grab the condom that had somehow made it to the bedspread. The throbbing head of his cock twitched and leaked as he rolled it on, making Jensen yearn for a taste.

Forbidden fruit.

Raising himself up, Jensen paused to look at Jared, spread like a banquet beneath him. Jared's hair fanned messily across the pillow, his eyes bright and his colour high. His condom-covered cock lay thick and heavy in his hand, obscene and gorgeous. And all for Jensen.

"Jensen," Jared breathed, a plea and a demand and a prayer rolled into one.

Jensen couldn't deny either of them a moment longer.

The sound that escaped his throat when he eased down onto Jared's cock in one long, filthy glide, was barely human. Jared's hips bucked, pushing him wonderfully deeper, and Jensen tumbled forward. His hands landed on Jared's broad chest, and he had no complaints about this position at all. It made Jared's cock press up against him in all the right ways, and it let him look straight into Jared's face and see every flicker of reaction that spread across it. It didn't matter that he didn't technically know what they meant. Jensen could feel everything that Jared was. There was no placed where he wasn't Jared. They were one, not two.

"Move!" Jared begged, and Jensen felt himself smile.

"With pleasure."

Jensen's awareness dwindled down to flashes as they moved together: the heat of Jared's cock, Jared's breathless, worshipful murmurs, the burn in his thighs as they flexed around Jared's body, the burning love and need and _want_ that was eating him up from the inside. There was nothing in his world but Jared.

It was perfect.

It was an eternity and a heartbeat later that Jared's orgasm slammed through both of them, Jensen's own release following hard on its heels. The world went white.

When Jensen was next able to exist as something more than a creature of pure emotion, he found that he was the one lying flat on the bed. His sweat soaked shirt had been replaced by his pajamas, and his skin felt remarkably clean given what he'd just been up to. Clearly Jared had been taking care of the aftermath.

"Back with me?" Jared asked, and Jensen rolled his head laboriously to the side to see Jared standing in the doorway to the ensuite bathroom. Jared smiled when he saw Jensen looking at him, filling Jensen's mind with fondness and the vaguest hint of relief. 

They were once again separate people in Jensen's brain. It was at once a comfort and a loss.

Jensen made a vague noise of agreement. His brain felt hazy, and there was a bone-deep feeling of satisfying exhaustion weighing him down to the bed. 

Jared chuckled. "Guess I don't need to ask if it was good for you." 

Lazily, Jensen flipped him off. 

Jared chuckled. "Love you too. You know, I'm kind of glad we don't do that more often. I'm not sure my heart could take it."

"You'd never guess it from how often you masturbate," Jensen said, and definitely deserved the pillow that Jared threw at his face in retaliation.

"Seriously though, it's intense." A pause. "I can see why you don't like touching people if it magnifies everything so much."

"Yeah," Jensen said absently. When was Jared going to stop talking so they could go to sleep?

He felt the mattress shift as Jared sat down beside him. 

"What would happen if…" Jared started. Awkwardness. Embarrassment. Worry.

Jensen rolled over onto his side to look at him. "If what?"

Dull red infused Jared's cheeks. "If it wasn't me. If it was someone else touching you. I know that it's my fault you get all-" a hand wave that was presumably meant to mean something, "-y'know. Would someone be able to make you do something you don't want?"

Fear. Protectiveness. 

"No," Jensen said.

Jared frowned. "If you're lying to keep me from worrying-"

"I'm not," Jensen cut in. Jared's mouth shut with an audible click. The fear didn't abate. 

Jensen sighed internally as he banished the muzzy feeling of pleased languor from his mind so he could answer sufficiently. "Other people's emotions are very literally foreign to me. I receive them, true, but they exist separately from my own emotions. When I was a kid, it was harder, but these days I can always tell what's me and what isn't. I don't get infected by other people." Overwhelmed, perhaps, but Jared probably wouldn't understand the difference. "Only an empath has the ability to force someone to feel an emotion that isn't theirs and believe it's their own."

Jared's forehead creased. Confusion. "But, then why-?"

"You're different." Daring greatly, Jensen hooked his hand around Jared's bare neck and pulled him in close. Jared was a quiescent wash of bone-deep satisfaction and worry, too mellow to be overwhelming. "Your emotions aren't foreign to me. They're always in my head. When we're touching, it's not you infecting me. It's me not being able to tell where I end and you begin. Which can be wonderful," he added, because Jared was starting to feel guilty, of all the stupid things. "But it's not very practical for prolonged periods of time. I thought I explained this before."

Fondness. "You did, love." Jared stroked a feather-light finger down Jensen's cheek, trailing affection in his wake. "But sometimes what makes sense to you and what makes sense to me are different things."

"Oh," Jensen said. "I apologize."

Jared shook his head. "Nothing to apologize for. Just don't blame me too much if I don't always follow your logic the first time, okay?"

"Deal." Jensen took his hand away from Jared's neck, ignoring the part of him that cried out at the loss. "Are you finished having a crisis? Because I'm exhausted."

That earned him a chuckle and another burst of affection. "It has been a long day. I think you're onto something."

"Good," Jensen said, and let the calm of Jared's emotions lull him to sleep.

Why were vegetables so expensive? 

Jensen considered the display of broccoli he was standing in front of, trying to decide whether or not his appreciation of it would measure up to the cost. At Home, he'd eaten vegetables regularly, but not so much since he'd started making his own way. 

Initially, it had been the sheer amount of choice that had tempted him away from the sort of diet he'd been used to all his life. He was embarrassed to admit that he'd probably gone overboard with the junk food. He still didn't think he'd ever be able to eat a marshmallow again. Far better to return to vegetables, even if they did cost more than potato chips.

In his periphery, Jensen could sense a dozen or so other people milling around the store. If he concentrated, he could have pinpointed their exact locations, but it was hardly relevant. They drifted past him in little balls of collected emotions; he could sense where they were but not what they were feeling. Which suited him just fine. It was harder than it had been at Home, where everyone had mental shields of some sort, but he was slowly getting used to it. Two months ago, being in close contact with this many people would have been enough to have him looking frantically for an exit, and now here he was debating the cost-benefit value of broccoli.

It was amazing, what a stella could get used to.

"Hey," a voice said. 

Jensen turned. There was a man standing beside him, his eyes locked on Jensen's face. As there was no one else standing in this aisle, Jensen could only assume the man was talking to him.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm Brad," the man said. "I've noticed you here before."

"That's because this is where I buy groceries," Jensen said, in case the man hadn't put that together yet. It seemed a logical enough inference to him, but who knew how Normals functioned. "Why are you talking to me?"

The guy smiled. "Because I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee with me."

That was an odd request.

"Why would I want to do that?" Jensen wondered aloud. 

"Because I'm charming and good-looking?" the man said, his voice lifting at the end. Jensen had no idea why that would be a question.

Also, those didn't sound like good reasons to him. "I'm not interested in your proposal."

"Come on," the man said, still smiling. "Just coffee. Nothing else."

Jensen decided that he didn't want broccoli this much. "I'm leaving."

He turned to go, only to have his wrist caught in a careful grip. The man's - Brad's - emotions surged into him in a dizzying mix. Jensen wasn't used to touching people who didn't have the mental training to control which emotions they let him feel; everything Brad was hit him all at once, and Jensen had no hope of parsing it all.

Brad was saying something else, but Jensen wasn't listening, too busy trying to make sense of what he was feeling. The strongest emotion was a dark, cloying red that took Jensen a moment to remember: lust.

This Normal desired him, for some reason.

Coming back to himself with a start, Jensen pulled his hand out of the loose grip.

"I don't like to be touched," he said, fighting the urge to rub his skin. "Leave me alone." 

Emotions were pressing in from all sides, Jensen realized, stronger and closer than they had been. He looked around, curious.

They were drawing a crowd. Suddenly, Jensen missed Home with a vehemence that startled him.

Brad was still talking.

"Come on. Just one date. Please? I promise I'm a great conversationalist."

The cloying red of Brad's lust was still smeared across the back of Jensen's mind. His insides quailed. 

"I have no interest in your penis," Jensen said. "Please go away," he added after a moment's thought. He was still working on being polite. 

Brad stared at him, open mouthed. "I, you that..." 

Jensen moved to go about his own business again. Unfortunately, everywhere he looked, there were people watching him. Their interest made their emotions that much harder to ignore. They pressed in close, battering against his shields.

Jensen couldn't do this.

Gathering his self-control firmly around him, Jensen abandoned his half-full cart and walked with measured steps out of the building. He went straight home and spent the rest of the day trying unsuccessfully to rid himself of the tang of Brad's unwanted interest. 

He didn't achieve his grocery store goal that week, too worried about what would happen if he went back to manage it.

The following week, he started shopping at a different store instead. 

The day of Jensen's 'appointment' with the Stella Institute came and went without fanfare. Jensen knew better than to expect that that would be the end of it, but he had to admit that he failed to anticipate their next move, which was… unfortunate.

It came to a head on a Saturday. 

Jared had convinced him to go for a run, because Jensen was a fool and loved him.

Clearly, love was just a nice word for focused insanity.

"You did great," Jared was saying, as they staggered back down the street towards home. Jared, damn him, was covered with a healthy sheen of sweat and looked like an advertisement in a healthy living magazine. Jensen was mostly a sweaty, gasping mess.

"This was a terrible idea," Jensen told him. "I am never listening to you again."

"Lies," Jared said, waving a hand. "We'll have you running marathons I'm no time." 

"I fear that all the endorphins have made you delusional." Was he ever going to get his breath back? This was ridiculous. 

Jared was still grinning. "I know that tone," he said, which was patently untrue. 'Tone' was something of a myth, as far as Jensen was concerned, especially when talking about his voice. "It means that you really enjoyed yourself, but you don't want to let me- huh."

"Let you huh?" Jensen repeated, confused.

"No, no," Jared said, shaking his head. He waved a hand towards their house, now only a few doors away. "I got distracted. It looks like we've got company. Possibly the FBI or the Men in Black, judging by the black suits and shades combo. What the hell do they want with us?"

"What?" Jensen looked and realized, with great resignation, that Jared was correct. His footsteps, which had been pretty glacial to begin with, slowed even further. 

Jared noticed. "Jensen? Do you know why suspicious suited men are lurking on our doorstep? Please don't tell me you're involved with the mafia."

He was probably joking, Jensen decided. That was the sort of thing that Jared usually said as a joke. There was an edge of concern to his confusion though, which Jensen couldn't blame him for.

"You were closer with your first guess," Jensen told him, because Jared deserved honesty. And it wasn't as though he'd be able to hide it anymore. Not with people from Home on his fucking doorstep.

Alarm. "Seriously?" Jared hissed, giving Jensen a strange case of déjà vu. Amazing how the prospect of this conversation made him wish that he were facing off against his parents again instead. "What the hell is the FBI doing at our house?"

"Looking for me." He glanced at Jared. "Although they're not exactly the FBI. I'll explain later, I promise. Can you try to calm down a little? This will be harder if we're panicked."

"Depends," Jared said. "Is there anything that I need to be panicked about? Because I am not above picking you up and running away if the need arises."

"First of all, I'd like to see you try. Secondly, they've already seen us." It was true. Also unsurprising, considering that this wasn't exactly a quiet conversation. "And finally, you probably don't need to be panicked, no."

"Probably?" Jared repeated. "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. Also, I can totally carry you and run at the same time. Don't tempt me."

"This is not the time. Come on, let's get this over with."

The two suited men, who had been watching them with matched dispassionate expressions while they talked, straightened as he and Jared resumed their approach. Their emotions were shielded to a degree that Jensen hadn't experienced since he was at Home, and they existed like twin holes in Jensen's perception: present but shiny and opaque, like bouncing off a curved wall. 

When he got to the end of their driveway, Jensen stopped.

"You're blocking the door," he told them. "Move."

A step behind him, Jared made an odd choking sound.

Jensen glanced back at him. "Okay?"

Jared waved him off. "Don't mind me." Now that he was consciously suppressing his panic, all Jensen could feel from him was curiosity and a healthy dose of fierce protectiveness. Which was sweet, but misguided. Jensen could take care of himself.

Although, he amended to himself, with shields like that, these two might have been more easily dealt with by a fist to the face than Jensen's particular brand of persuasion.

"Jensen Ackles," one of them said. He dipped a hand into his jacket and withdrew a familiar-looking envelope. "You have been ignoring our recent correspondence."

"No, I haven't. I sent you a reply."

"Which was not accepted, as was indicated in subsequent correspondence," the other one said. "Refusal is not an option."

"Are you threatening my boyfriend?" Jared asked, stepping closer. "Because I am not putting up with that. I don't care who you are."

"This is a matter of legal requirement, Mr. Padalecki," one of them said. "Not a threat."

"Wha-?"

"Mr. Ackles is breaking the law. Surely you've been aware of his refusal to abide by a government summons?"

Damn them.

Frustration. The faintest stirrings of anger, presumably directed at Jensen.

Unfortunately, Jensen had more important things to do than worry about it.

"Am I expected to come with you now?" he asked.

Jared's fingers found their way to the back of Jensen's shirt and clutched tightly.

"No," one of them said, and Jared sagged a little. Relief? "We are here to encourage you strongly to comply with the precepts of the letter this time. If you choose to ignore them again, we shall be more forceful."

Translation: next time we'll take you by force.

"I understand. Now, will you vacate our doorway? I need a shower."

Wordlessly, the pair came down the steps and walked past them to the large SUV parked in the driveway. Jensen had to admire their cunning when they extended the envelope to Jared, rather than him.

"Mr. Ackles. Mr. Padalecki. Have a pleasant day," the one without the envelope said. He inclined his head. "We look forward to your return Home, Jensen."

Unhurriedly, they continued to their car, while Jensen wondered if it was worth the effort to try and remember if he'd ever crossed paths with either of them before. Probably not. Neither of them seemed the type to have made any sort of impression on him. 

"Come on," Jensen said, once they'd backed out of the driveway and vanished down the street. "I don't want to have this conversation on the lawn."

"Oh, we're having a conversation now?" Jared asked, although he followed Jensen up to the door just the same. Wisps of irritation. "Cause it seems like there are a couple of things you've been keeping from me. And it might just be me, but I think it would have been nice to hear about… whatever this is before getting ambushed by suited men on our doorstep."

"Be glad they decided not to wait inside instead," Jensen said, letting them into the house. "That would have been more disconcerting."

"At this point, I think the level of disconcertion hardly makes much difference." Jared sighed. He felt strangely betrayed, which Jensen didn't like at all. "Jensen, will you please tell me what's going on?"

Jensen owed him that much. And more, probably. He'd have to see if any of his relationship books covered a situation like this. 

"I will," he said. He shifted to toe off his shoes and felt a burst of disgust about the sodden state of his socks. "Can I have a shower first?"

For some reason, that made Jared's unhappiness ease slightly. "How about I whip us up some eggs while you're showering. Then I'll get washed up while you're eating and we can talk about this whole… mess when we're both in a better mood."

"I'm sorry you found out this way," Jensen offered.

Jared's answering smile didn't have much genuineness behind it. "I still don't feel like I've found out anything. I trust you, though."

"That's - thank you."

Jared's fingers twitched, but ultimately stayed at his side. "You're welcome," he said. "Now go get showered. You kind of smell."

"And whose fault is that?" Jensen asked, although he went. It wasn't like Jared was wrong.

Maybe the time in the shower would give him the opportunity to come up with the explanation that was least likely to upset Jared any further.

\------

50 minutes later, they tried again.

Clean from his shower, Jared sat down at the kitchen table while Jensen polished off the last of his eggs. Jared was turning the envelope around in his hands almost absently; Jensen wasn't sure if he was more surprised or relieved that it was still sealed.

Jensen stared into his mostly-empty tea mug, unsure where to begin.

Jared, as usual, came to his rescue. "You know, I think I prefer pushy owls as a delivery technique."

Jensen blinked at him, nonplussed. "What do owls have to do with anything?"

Jared chuckled, even though his emotions were nowhere even close to mirthful. "I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you're not a Harry Potter fan. What I mean is that that was the most intimidating pair of mailmen I've ever had the misfortune of meeting."

"It's not their day job." Jensen eyed the envelope in Jared's hands with a weary resignation. "They're employees at Home."

"Your parents are sending you mail via the FBI?" Jared asked, cocking his head to the side the way he did when he was confused. "I didn't think dinner went that badly."

It was Jensen's turn to be perplexed. "What?"

"You said those guys worked at your parents' house, right? Are they more upset than I thought?"

Oh. Of course. Jensen should have anticipated that interpretation of his words.

"Not my parents' house. Home. The place where I grew up."

Sudden spike of interest. "You told me that you grew up in a government facility," Jared said, leaning forward.

Jensen nodded. "At Home. That's what we were told to call it. It was the only one I had until-"

"You bought this place?"

"I bonded with you," Jensen corrected, and felt his face warm in response to the sheer amount of mushy affection that simple phrase prompted in Jared.

"I always pictured you in something like a foster home," Jared said. "Just run by stellae. Am I wrong?"

"Very. It was more like a… a military boarding school, I suppose." He considered. "Or possibly a medical lab."

Jared frowned. "Why do I get the impression that you deliberately downplayed that part of it when you explained last time?"

"No, it's not- that wasn't intentional." Jensen tried a small shrug. "You know how I get."

"You didn't realize it required explaining?" 

"Until I left Home and started working, I didn't realize that my childhood was anything out of the ordinary."

Jared's mouth twisted. "Jesus, Jensen," he said. He felt strangely sad. "I know you needed help making sure you could control your powers, but that's not a good environment for anyone to grow up in, especially not a kid."

Jensen shrugged. "If you say so."

"Do you miss it?"

"No," Jensen said immediately. Some of his vehemence must have been obvious even without any visual cues, because Jared simply nodded and changed the subject.

"So the jerks in suits, they work for this Home place."

Jensen nodded.

"And what is it that they want from you?"

"They want me to be reassessed."

Curiosity. "For what?"

"Empathic ability." 

"Does that usually change?" Jared gestured at Jensen's stars. "I mean, you were born a level 5. Isn't that pretty set in stone?"

"Yes and no. Most stellae come into their full strength once they go through puberty. Their strength as children is usually not an accurate representation of their full potential."

"Okay," Jared said slowly. "That still doesn't explain why they want you reassessed. You're hardly a teenager."

"They want to see how much stronger I am now that I've bonded with you."

A brief surge of possessive pride, followed by confusion. Jensen found that a rather odd reaction. 

Jared didn't give him long to dwell on it. "What do I have to do with anything?" he asked. "Does being bonded make empaths stronger?"

"It improves my control, as you know. I don't have to guard myself so closely because I have you to ground me. The Stella Institute wants to see what I can do with level 5 powers now that I don't have to worry quite so much about getting my brain scrambled when I touch people."

"Huh." Jared held up the envelope. "So this is-?"

"A summons for an aptitude test, basically. Like a doctor's appointment. I tried to say no, but apparently that's not an option."

Jared's eyes narrowed. "Why did you try to say no?" 

Jensen looked down at the table. "I don't want to tell you."

Jared sighed. "I won't try and force you to tell me anything you don't want to. If you'd rather keep it to yourself, then that's fine." His mind was a grey-white wash of resignation and patience, tinged just faintly with hope.

"But you want me to tell you anyway," Jensen guessed.

"I want you to be happy and safe," Jared said. He looked down at his hands, the envelope still tipped on its corners between his fingers. "I will certainly admit to being curious - not that I need to, I'm sure." He didn't: Jensen could easily feel that for himself. "But it's not just about what I want, is it?"

"I don't want to give you up," Jensen blurted, and was immediately horrified with himself.

Shock. "I'm not going anywhere." Concern. "Why would you think I would?"

"Not you," Jensen tried to explain. "Me. I don't want them to take me away."

The shock redoubled, turning protective green around the edges. "No one's taking you away. I wouldn't let them."

"I suppose they might take you too," Jensen said, turning the idea over in his mind. "Depending on where they want me to go. That wouldn't be so bad."

Jared's hand landed on his sleeve, and Jensen started. He hadn't noticed Jared standing up and coming to crouch by his side. 

Jared's thoughts were gentle. "Jensen," he said. "You're starting to frighten me."

"The yoga's definitely working," was all Jensen could think to say. "You don't feel frightened at all."

Jared smiled. "Only because I'm trying very hard to be calm. It won't do us any good if we're both scared. But I really need you to explain to me what you're talking about. In small words, if necessary."

Jensen took a moment to order himself. "You know that most high level stellae work for the government."

Jared nodded.

"Much of our education was designed to supplement this. I told you learned how to identify and block emotions. They also trained me to manipulate them. It's a pretty standard technique for empaths, and they had high hopes for the work I'd be able to take on as a government employee."

Jared's brow furrowed. "You make it sound like a mandatory thing."

Jensen shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. Despite practicing for years, I never managed to figure out how to keep my own emotions balanced when I touched another person. There's not much call for an agent who compromises himself every time he tries to do his job. I wasn't considered appropriate for government service, so they allowed me to choose my own schooling and career."

"And also because forced service is illegal these days," Jared said, obviously trying to lighten the mood. 

Jensen looked at him. He said nothing.

Jared's smile fell. "What?" White horror. "Tell me you're joking." 

"The government can't technically force any stella to work for it, but the issue becomes more technical the more powerful the stella in question is. You wondered why I was just an architect; I know you did." 

"Hardly 'just', love," Jared said. Pride in Jensen pulsed behind his words. "You're the best drafter in the company." 

"Not really the point I was making. But thank you."

Jared flashed him a smile, then sobered. "Okay, I can admit that I was somewhat surprised to meet a high level stella working in an office, yes. But it sounds like you're afraid that they'll retest you and force you to, what? Become some kind of professional interrogator whether you want to or not?"

"I- yes," Jensen admitted. "That's pretty much it."

"Well fuck."

More anger, darkening to panic near the centre. At least this time, it didn't seem to be directed at Jensen.

Jared hand a hand through his hair. "Do you really think they can make you do that? I mean, this is America, for Christ's sake. We have laws about this kind of stuff."

Jensen didn't know what they were capable of, to be honest, but, "I'm afraid they won't apply to me. You know that there are separate laws concerning stellae, and I'm the only level 5 empath currently alive on this continent. I'm not sure I want to know what they'll be willing to do if they think I'm worth having."

"I won't let them," Jared promised. "You hear me? I won't."

His hand reached up and just barely brushed Jensen's cheek. Jensen jolted away, gasping as the full, suffocating weight of Jared's protective fury flooded into him.

Jared jerked his hand back like he'd been burnt. "I need to go calm down," he said, standing up quickly. He started to walk away, then turned back over one shoulder. "If I can't control myself, you have my permission to knock me out. Those sedatives that Dr. Aziz gave us are in the bathroom."

"Jared, that's not-"

"I'm not hurting you again," Jared said. His entire body was trembling with the force of keeping himself calm, Jensen noticed. "Please don't let me hurt you."

"Okay," Jensen agreed reluctantly.

Jared flashed him a smile. "When I calm down," he said. "We're going to figure this out."

"Sure," Jensen agreed, and tried not to feel like the past year had been an all-too-fleeting dream as he watched Jared walk away from him.

\------

The thing was.

When he'd lived at Home, Jensen had seen nothing wrong with the life they'd given him. It hadn't necessarily been enjoyable, but it had been necessary. He wouldn't have been alive today if not for the training he'd received there. And Jensen could even admit that he missed it sometimes, not just because of the white-washing impact of nostalgia. 

And yet. 

Since Jensen had left Home, he'd learned what it meant to be part of the human race. He'd built his own life, complete with his own goals, his own successes and his own joys. And Jared.

He'd be damned before he let them take that away from him again. And he'd do a hell of a lot more damage than that if they tried to drag Jared down with him. 

"You are not going to be submitted to the government training program next year," Dr. Tapping said. 

A burst of relief swept through Jensen. Hard on its heels came the expected shame: he was a failure. He'd let everyone down. 

But it meant a freedom that he had scarcely dared to dream about. 

Jensen kept his thoughts to himself, the way they'd taught him. "I understand." 

"A list of suitable alternative occupations has been compiled," Dr. Tapping said. She waved a hand, and one of the helpers stepped forward with a piece of paper. "Take some time to consider which ones you have interest in." 

The knowledge of exactly what he'd be squandering if he didn't take this chance made Jensen brave.

"Do I have to choose off the list?" he ventured. 

As was her wont, Dr. Tapping answered his question with one of her own. "Did   
you have something in mind?" 

Was Jensen meant to take that as an opportunity to speak? Not for the first time, he regretted the fact that Chris had left Home three years ago; he'd always been able to tell Jensen when Dr. Tapping was using what Chris called her 'warning voice'. Some questions, Jensen had learned, had specific answers. 

Apparently, Jensen was taking too long. "Tell me." 

"I want to work in design," Jensen admitted. 

"Designing what?" 

Jensen had never told anyone before. "Buildings." 

The skin around Dr. Tapping's eyes did something strange. Why did faces have to have so many permutations? He didn't dare ask what it meant, though. It would just be another reminder of his failure, and he desperately wanted Dr. Tapping not to be so disappointed with him that she refused out of hand. 

"That's called architecture," Dr. Tapping told him.

Jensen nodded. He knew that. 

"It will require external schooling, so we'll have to ask for approval," Dr. Tapping said. She smiled suddenly, and Jensen wished he could smile back. Some of the low-level empaths could do it. He liked it when Dr. Tapping smiled. "But I'll see what I can do." 

That was more than Jensen had hoped for. "Thank you," he said, trying to ignore the excitement rising up inside him. 

"You do know that you won't be like the other students," Dr. Tapping said. Her voice didn't rise at the end, which meant that it wasn't a question. 

"I do," Jensen agreed. 

"And that doesn't frighten you?" 

Not unduly. "Should it?" 

Dr. Tapping made a face that Jensen couldn't parse. "That remains to be seen." 

"I've been thinking about this stuff with Home," Jared said, out of the blue several days later. 

Jensen paused in the act of making sandwiches for lunch. "You have."

Jared nodded. "I think you need to let them retest you."

So this was what betrayal felt like. They'd never quite been able to convey it to Jensen's satisfaction at Home. It felt bitter in his mouth.

"You do," he managed. "That surprises me."

"They're not going to leave us alone," Jared said, disgustingly logical. "Better to meet them on your own terms before they escalate the situation. If you force their hand, they're probably going to be a lot harder to reason with when we tell them to stuff their government job up their asses."

"You-" Jensen took a moment to process that. "You really think I'll be able to come back here after they retest me?"

Jared nodded. "I'm not letting anyone take you away." He frowned. "I'm very upset that you thought I meant something else, but I get that this is difficult for you. Once we've dealt with this mess, we're going to have a long talk with face-touching and lots of emotional transference about just how much I adore you. Okay?"

There wasn't much Jensen could say to that. "Okay."

"Good. So. I think we should deal with this head-on."

"We?" 

"Such a massive conversation. You have no idea. There will be embarrassing confessions involved. I might cry a little. Of course 'we'. We-" a hand waving gesture at the space between them, "-are now and forever a we. We are also separate mes, but that doesn't make us any less of a we."

"You're starting to confuse me."

Jared waved a hand. "Whatever, the words aren't important. Mostly, we're going to kick this thing in the balls together."

"You did hear the part where the government can kind of force me to work for it, yes?" Jensen asked. "I think you're being overoptimistic."

Jared pursed his lips. "I don't think so."

"They'll be willing to use extreme persuasion," Jensen said. "Which, from what I understand, is a euphemism for violence."

"If they hurt you, they won't be able to employ you. They kind of need you in one piece, both physically and mentally. Violence will only make it harder for you to stay in control, and they can't afford that."

Jared was missing the obvious here.

"They've got a lot of leverage," Jensen reminded him. "I'm bonded to you. They can get me to do whatever they want if they threaten you." The very words tasted like bile in his mouth. 

"Yeah, I guess," Jared said, unconcerned. "But they wouldn't actually hurt me." 

Jensen felt a surge of exasperation. "Your faith in our government is overdeveloped." 

"I'll put my faith in you first, actually. It's not faith in the government. It's just practicality." 

That gave Jensen pause. "How so?" 

"I've been reading up on empathic bonds," Jared said. "Did you know that, in the few documented cases they've got, bonded empaths don't outlive their partner by more than a couple of months?"

"Yes," Jensen said. "So?"

"You rely on my mental well-being for your own, right? So anything that does lasting damage to me or my mental landscape directly affects the use they can get out of you. Even if someone threatens to hurt me, they can't actually do anything unless they want to risk rendering you useless to them. It's not a winning situation."

"I'm not willing to risk your safety on a logical technicality," Jensen said. He could feel a protective sort of fury simmering at the back of his head; he wasn't sure which of them was to blame for it. Probably himself.

"Which is why we're also going to lawyer up and make sure that everything is recorded in goddamn triplicate before we go anywhere near that damn place. Paper trails will make it harder for them to vanish either of us. Besides, you do know that they're probably going to be a little terrified of you, right?"

Jensen blinked. "What? Why?"

Exasperated fondness. "You're a level 5 empath with a flourishing empathic bond and a protective instinct a mile wide. If they're not afraid of getting on your bad side, they haven't got two brain cells to rub together." Determination. "We are going to deal with this together, and then we are going to come back to our lives and keep right on living them. I promise."

"You shouldn't promise things you can't guarantee," Jensen said, although he couldn't deny the flash of hope that Jared's words prompted.

"I would move the world itself to keep you safe," Jared said. "And it just so happens that I know a guy who can literally move the world with his mind who's also totally on board with this plan, if push comes to shove. Name's Chris. You may have heard of him. He's kind of pissed that you never mentioned the letters, by the way."

 _Of course he is,_ Jensen was going to say. "I love you," is what came out instead.

Fondness. Devotion. Affection. All the variations of an emotion that Jensen had never needed to understand the subtle nuances of before Jared had walked into his life. He was looking forward to learning each and every one. 

"Right back at you. I'm going to hug you now." Jared suited action to his words and wrapped Jensen up in his long arms. Jensen let his head drop to the front of Jared's shoulder, enjoying the dual sensation of being enveloped by Jared's body and mind all at once. Jared pressed a feather-light kiss to his hair. "We good?"

Jensen nodded. "We're good."

And the people at Home had another thing coming if they thought Jensen was going to let them change that.

"Don't forget that we still need to meet my parents for lunch after all this shit is dealt with," Jared said, interrupting Jensen's pleasantly vengeful thoughts. "After I survived meeting yours, there is no way I'm letting you weasel out of returning the favour."

Well, hell. "You're a cruel and unusual person," Jensen muttered.

Love. Pure, unadulterated love. "I sure am. And you're stuck with me forever."

Which worked out well, because that was just how Jensen wanted it.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Acknowledgements:** Thank you first and foremost to [pennydrdful](http://pennydrdful.livejournal.com) for picking my prompt and making some absolutely beautiful art to go with it. She did an absolutely masterful job of conveying some very nebulous ideas in gorgeous detail, and was super cool about me being the pickiest person ever to pick. :P Her art really strikes into the heart of what this story is all about, and I couldn't be happier. Make sure you check out her [Art Post](http://pennydrdful.livejournal.com/265617.html) and leave some much-deserved love! Note that one of the images in the Art Post could be considered slightly spoilery.
> 
> This story has been in the works for literal years, so many thanks to anyone who commented on the other stories in the series or expressed an interest in a continuation. I hope that the ultimate result is somewhat worth the wait!
> 
> Thanks to the Hand Holding ladies for joining in the misery of draft deadlines and encouraging me through their own determination to get this stuff finished on time, dammit. Thanks also to Mum for brainstorming traumatic childhood memories with me and Laura for a speedy last-minute beta. Any inability to use the English language that still remains is totally my bad. Kudos always to [dugindeep](http://dugindeep.livejournal.com) for being awesome.
> 
> And finally, hooray for [wendy](http://wendy.livejournal.com) for always doing such an amazing job hosting this challenge!
> 
>  
> 
> **Please do not post links to my stories on Goodreads or any other third party website.**


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